


All in Your Head

by Boring_plant



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A lot more ships but they're pretty eh to the plot compared to these guys, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Detective AU, F/F, F/M, Imagine bnha without pro heroes, M/M, Okay No, One long mess, There are too many people to tag too so I'm only gonna include the major ones, hhh - Freeform, houston we have a problem, most of them are adults lmao, this is just one big mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2020-06-24 15:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19726720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boring_plant/pseuds/Boring_plant
Summary: Yamaguchi is terrifyingly stupid. He knows he could've chosen to do something normal with his life like Tsukki, but heobviouslyisn't smart enough to make good decisions. He's just hoping he doesn't die too early.Kunimi is painfully naive. He's sure Kindaichi hasn't noticed yet, and probably won't until much later, but he still wishes they can quit before things get too serious. He's just hoping his boss doesn't catch him.Tendou is dangerously considerate. He's confident his newfound kind-streak will be aseriousproblem for Wakatoshi and the others, but at least he knows how to keep a secret. He's just hoping this wasn't a huge mistake.





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all in your head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I had to make another description, it would be:  
> The superpower fic where Yamaguchi is drowning in work, Kunimi is indirectly proving his best friend wrong, Tendou gets a cute little brother, and they're all a second away from going to jail.
> 
> BTW the '=' signifies ???. You decide lmao. You'll only see it in the prologue. 
> 
> Tbh I just kinda hope you're not too ashamed of this fic.

_"It's all in your head,” they told him. “You can't really do anything.”_

At a young age, he had realized that other kids were just big bullies. If their taunts and pushes were anything to go by, he learned that hurting others was the easiest way to not hurt yourself, no matter how counterproductive it was in the end.

These echoes and mimicries were their way of hiding behind a thin veil of superiority. It never made things better for them (he'd learn through time and friends), but it was a strong, easy-to-find painkiller. It numbed their minds even if it left their wounds and problems open.

The thought made him sad, but he never tried to change them. He didn't think he could. Even if they were in pain, he couldn't find a way to heal it.

That guilt still haunts him.

He has scrapped so many of his plans and his dreams, all because of this shame. He's wasted job opportunities, scholarship offers and grants. He's spent endless hours on regrets and memories that _never_ should've had a place in his head.

Years later, after nights of loud thoughts and quiet chatter, he wishes his mind and his issues remained as tame as they were when he was younger.

\---

Tadashi realized how stupid he was when he really got to grasp the uselessness of his Gift; all he can do is understand people. _Literally._

He can understand what he hears, what he reads, but he can't say it, he can't write it. He has no way to show other people what it really means.

He had realized this during English class. Everything was going smoothly (he wishes things had stayed the same). He had understood everything the teacher was talking about, he was the first to finish reading, and he genuinely enjoyed learning about verbs.

Apparently, life didn't like that, so when his teacher made him say “ _Rest,"_ he just _couldn't do it._

And as how glass breaks, his dreams had shattered. Piece after piece, they fell apart, leaving him to wonder: _Shit. What do I do now?_

(He didn't swear at the time. Put in mind, he was nine.).

And with him bragging about acing the class, his classmates made fun of him for it.

For _years._

He had thought that was an ability that came with his Gift. If he could translate any language in his head, then he should be able to speak it, right? English, Spanish, German, Russian, and maybe even Martian if it existed. Hell, he could read _computer codes_ when he was two.

(At age five, he had thought, _Wow! I'm gonna make a lot of friends!_

That didn't work out.)

He imagined it would get him the best grades, make him look cute in front of girls, and help him become the world's best foreign minister. It wasn't as flashy as his neighbor’s (who could control artificial light), but its uses were endless.

His imagination held no limits, back then.

Other kids could create fire out of their noses and levitate water, but he still had the audacity to think his Gift was better. (Though honestly, what job could they possibly get out of that? Arsonist?)

Had things gone his way, his Gift could've made him rich. It could've made him famous. He could've travelled the world and he could've ended every international dispute. He probably could've brought world peace if he tried hard enough.

Emphasis on could've.

\---

“What does it say?”

The world stops in a whirlwind of anger and betrayal. He needs to say it. He needs to find a way.

 _“Just do it_ ,” he tells himself. “ _It's not that hard.”_

“We have to go.”

He's panicking now. There's blood pounding in his ears, and there are chills running down his spine. He can't say it. He can't do it. He can hardly speak at all. It's impossible.

“What do you mean? What does it say?” 

“I- don't ask! We have to go!”

Eyes that linger sense his ever growing fear. He understands that it's obvious, with his breaths, his hands, his thoughts. Those eyes can feel the agony going inside his head, and it grows stronger as he tries to piece the words that just won't form. There's nothing he can hide from him. Absolutely nothing.

He doesn't know if they're using their powers, or if it's because of his transparency, but they're rushing now. Books and papers are getting pushed into his bag. The desk isn't empty yet, but there's no more space.

Had there been more time, they could've retrieved more, but he knows that with the situation they're in, they lack it. Or maybe time has no meaning left at all.

They rush to leave, but he spares one last glance, one fearful look to see if he read it right. To check if it really was true. To prove the reality of his fears.

_‘We know.’_

He crumples the note and tosses it away.

***

_“It's all in your head,” he told them. “You can never lie to me.”_

Ever since he was little, he knew people hated knowledge as much as they hated ignorance. Whether it be “ _Ignorance is bliss,_ ” or “ _Ignorance is the root of all evil,_ ” he knew knowledge had always played a part in not knowing.

He'd unraveled so many truths that were better left hidden. He could hear things he wasn't supposed to and understand ideas far more than children his age could, or rather, _should_.

A fact that was made stronger through experience, was that knowing makes things meaningless. The more you learn about other people, the less they wanted to learn about you. It was an inverse proportion that benefited the blind.

The more answers you find, the more questions pop up. Curiosity burns out like a candle losing wax, flickering for a second but dying a moment later. He'd grown tired of unanswered questions and questionable answers, and he dreamt of a world of mental fortitude and thoughtless voids.

He still dreams to this day, no matter how little sleep he gets.

Time passes, either as a snail or as the wind, but knowledge and ignorance are constants that don't falter like a meek flame. It stays, forever present in the midst of the mind, burning brightly yet leaving you in the dark.

\---

Akira accepts how naive he is the moment he sees the embers of his Gift; he can read any person's thoughts. Their _darkest_ desires.

It was never an easy thing to master and going through someone's mind was as physically taxing to his body as cleaning his entire house. He'd spent years training himself to block out the constant noise the human mind creates. Months of constant practice just to ease his soreness and discomfort, and make out what voices were really _his._

He can't hear a person's sudden epiphanies, their tangents, and their contradictions. He can only hear what lurks at the back of their heads, those deadly wishes and morals heavy-laced with hatred.

The meaning behind their words, their actions, their emotions, were all laid before his eyes. As a child, he learned that bad was more prominent than good. He'd seen the way they acted, and how it goes against what they think, or perhaps how it was done to seek glory, attention, and admiration. For the sake of themselves and not for others.

Once news breaks out of his Gift, people tended to stray, to run from him. No one likes to be read like a book, no one wants their flaws to be acknowledged. To know what builds a person up can help break them down, and people don't like vulnerability. Only when he's older, the awkward age of eleven, that he'll realize that people work hard on their exterior, on their reputation, on their ‘ _personality_ '. And it won't be until much later that he'll accept what he'd realized.

He had lost the use of joy and gratitude after entering middle school. His thanks would be insincere, knowing that what they did for him was never truly for _him_ , but for themselves.

He'd met those who he'd grown to like after learning to block things out. He had grown scared of insincerity, and feared reading them. But, curiosity is often rekindled, as how one can find wax and relight the candle’s fire.

(They were true to their words, in heart and in mind, showing him that there _can_ be good in others.)

He'd made friends out those who remained, even after they'd learned about him. They'd unknowingly taught him that even past self satisfaction, kindness can come forth.

They'd taught him that one’s desires don't define them, they are merely baselines for who they can be. They decide who they are, they decide who they will become. One's worth comes from actions, not thoughts. They are all inherently selfish, he was sure of this, but that has never stopped them from doing good.

And it had never stopped those who were good from doing wrong.

\---

“ _Stop._ ”

The voice is strong, it reverberates in his head. It echoes in his mind. It's a desire so loud it’s a command, and he must force his feet to continue running. He _must_ continue running.

They can't hear it, they don't feel what he feels. Even past the walls and barriers, it still swims through his thoughts, it still phases through his skull.

He's losing his pace, and the voice will catch up to him eventually. He doesn't want that. He wants to save the others. He wants to do good. He can't do good if he slows down. He can't be better if he can't go faster.

It's burning now, his legs and his chest. He's never panted this hard before. Yamaguchi tries to pull him along, his hand clasped tightly unto his. He's exhausted now. He needs to rest. It's confusing and it doesn't make sense. He shouldn't be this affected. He should still be okay.

“ _Stop running._ ”

He stops.

***

_“It's all in your head,” he told himself, “You can't expect to be right all the time.”_

He doesn't remember when he had first acknowledged that the future was never set in stone. For as long as he could remember, it was ever-changing. Variables upon variables piling on top of each other, shifting together like gears in a well-oiled machine.

One thing always leads to another. Every action has a consequence. Choosing not to do something, _failing_ to do something, there's always an effect. That's without a doubt.

No matter how far a person looks into the future, no matter how large the probabilities are, there will always be a way to change the expected. No one can ever tell what happens next, only what happens now. Tomorrow comes from today, so the present creates our future, and we never have full control over the present.

The most minuscule of actions can create the grandest of results. He knows that everyone has the right to choose, even if they have no real choice on the outcome, and being capable of deciding what these actions can be is something he adores.

 _Freedom_. That's what he loves the most.

He had always lived on the line between impractical and logical, never falling too far into the other. Never wishing to live a life so contained by their ideals.

He hates the thought of impracticality, where nothing has structure and the world's a mess, but he also despises logic, with all of its restrictions and rules. He enjoys spontaneity as long as it harbors sense.

Sadly, most people don't share the same feelings.

\---

Satori first noticed how considerate he could be with the use of his Gift; he had visions of the future.

They were never perfect, no premonition was, but his were close. His mind would go through stacks of images, and he'd connect them through intuition and reasoning. Any time, any place, he can think it up and he'll have an idea on what's to come. At times, he could even create visions within visions.

But, that's where the problem lies.

He'd always had a wild imagination. He'd dreamt of monsters and demons, witches and wizards. He could create worlds and lands stretching far and wide in the blink of an eye. His brain made such intricate scenes, _so_ intricate that they were as detailed as his visions.

He'd have no way of telling which was which. Had he really seen himself getting a little brother, or had his imagination just reflected his wishes? Did he really _just_ imagine getting robbed today, or was that _really_ going to happen?

The only clues he ever gets for separating them, are from images that just _didn't make sense._ Visions that were so unlikely, he couldn't make them up. So, when he sees himself years later - an adult with a gravity-defying haircut - being so nice that it's practically out of character, he can only assume it's a vision, because seeing himself be anything _but_ mean is something he really can't fathom.

He had brought other kids to tears. He'd teased them and petrified them with his Gift. He scared his classmate shitless once - though, doesn't remember the name or the face anymore - by telling him he'd be in a car accident, but not telling _where_ or _when._

Parents hated him, children avoided him, teachers berated him. Therefore, when he sees his older self making people smile and laugh and basically making _friends_ , he can't help but think it's something that _must've_ been the future. Was he making sense?

When he sees tears and blood and fear, he knows this can just be an image he makes up. He knows he's fully capable of this. He's seen people of varying shapes and sizes, kids crying and adults panicking, all suffer because of him. He's sure this is normal, in the present and in the future, because he's sure that's who he is. He's a menace.

He's hurt so many people, he's _seen_ himself hurt so many people. He doubts he'll ever be capable of stopping. He knows this isn't right, but he also knows a hero needs a villain to prove their worth, and if being that villain gives him purpose, then _he'll do it._ Even if it hurts him too.

He remembers the feeling of satisfaction when he rose above _his_ bullies. The swell of pride and honor he felt back then is one of the few things he truly remembers. He hopes someone will feel that way about him too, to feel the rush and the satisfaction, otherwise his immorality would've been for nothing.

He still waits for someone else's strength, their power, and their love for themselves or for others, to bring him down. To bring him to justice. He wishes for times of regret and remorse to truly bring him to do good.

He waits for the day someone rises from where he has fallen.

\---

_There's red pooling around his shoes. He had loved those shoes. It's staining the pristine white, filling the blanks with more color. He has to buy a new pair now. Those were expensive._

_“Kunimi?"_

Kunimi’s tugging at his arm. His face is ashen, far paler than usual. He seems dizzy and disoriented. He wants to help him but there's too much going on in his head. He can't bother to give him any attention. He doesn't have the ability to-

_There's purple blooming on dotted skin. He can see more red seeping through white. Bandages. So many bandages. He knows there are more wounds - more scratches and bruises - underneath them. He wishes to clean it._

_“Yamaguchi?"_

There's a foreign language drifting to his ears. Was it Spanish? Italian?

He turns to Yamaguchi and waits for his reaction. He looks like he wants to speak, but his lips are screwed shut and his jaw is tight. His eyes are glimmering with tears in the moonlight. They look like the stars in the night sky. If only he could get his thoughts back in order. If only these visions would stop tumbling their way into his-

_He's standing beside them, their feet firmly planted on the ground. This is the end, he thinks. It has to be the end. He can't imagine or think of anything past this moment. It could be that he's gone over his limit, or that he's too tired to use his Gift. He's not sure if he likes that thought, but at the moment, it relieves him. He-_

=

“Don't worry about it,” someone tells him, probably because he's frowning while he thinks things over. “It's all in your head.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof this is a complete fail. Writing this for the sake of getting this out of my system so forgive me. (And I'm drowning in the Fandom wtf it's so big) 
> 
> None of them really met through volleyball in this AU and most of them don't even play it. This probably won't get an update any time soon, but eh.


	2. Repetition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tadashi doesn't mind it.  
> Akira can't handle it.  
> Satori won't ignore it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** signifies change of character perspective  
> \--- signifies scene change  
>  _Italics_ are flashbacks, dreams, visions, etc. 
> 
> Hope you kinda like it. Sorry in advance.  
> (And thanks for the comments, bookmarks, kudos and hits. I'm very grateful.)
> 
> Edit: I've changed the last names into first names lmao. Hope I replaced all the right ones.

Tadashi had always dreamed of being a detective. After watching Detective Conan, he had wanted to work in a world of magnifying glasses and case files. His aspirations all revolved around the art of mystery, all focused on problem solving and thinking outside the box. 

He had adored the thought of the unknown and relished in the idea of it. 

Ten years later, he's wishing he hadn't. 

His Gift makes him one of the most valuable workers in the Flightless Crows’ Private Detective Agency, but its drawbacks had also forced him to work alone. All the time. On every case.

 _Every single case_. 

He's sure it isn't _that_ bad. He made a few cool friends, met a lot of interesting (and borderline _deranged_ ) people, and managed to make the most out of his power. He knows he could've ended up on the streets or waist deep in debts, but sometimes he feels like he could’ve chosen to do something better with his life. 

Sometimes he wonders what would've happened, had he chosen a non-Gift related path like Tsukki. He's not sure he'll enjoy it, (since his roommate's constantly buried underneath textbooks and eating less than he used to) but maybe it'd be fun. Maybe he wouldn't be spending all his time listening to dumb recordings and trying to figure out how to make a report without having the privilege of normal data interpretation. 

He's starting to wonder if the time he spent in college was a waste, he's starting to question whether joining the agency was a bad move, and he's starting to regret choosing _this_ over professional bartending. 

Bartending was probably the better choice. 

\---

“What do you want for dinner?” Kinoshita asks him. 

It was achingly cold tonight. One of the main heaters broke the other day, and January's chill was as merciless as it was cruel. His jacket was too thin, his socks were too itchy, and his head hurt. He wants to go home, but his piles of work remind him to stay for a little longer.

He lifts his head to look at the dark circles underneath Kinoshita’s eyes. His hair has lost its life, and so has his voice. He looks like he's edging between tired and a mess, and Tadashi wants to check the mirror to see how spent _he_ looks. 

He'd like to think they've started to form a sad kinship because their similarities were so endless. They both stay late, they're both awkward and single, and they both desperately need some sleep. He's always there for him whenever he's got himself stuck in a mess, and he's there to help him when he can't file things right. He's basically the older brother he never got to have (and frankly, doesn't deserve). But-

“Ennoshita wants fast food,” he continues, “That okay with you?”

But, Kinoshita has something he will never have: a partner. 

They were the best match known to man. Their Gifts worked together in harmony. (Their names even _sounded_ the same). They were a human version of Chip ‘n’ Dale. The younger equivalent of Sherlock and Watson. They were literally Bert and Ernie. 

_Bert_ and _Ernie_. 

Kinoshita could input any video, whether or not it's on the internet, into a video recorder (though he worked best with VHS tapes), and Ennoshita could learn anything _and everything_ about a video, as long as he's watched it at least once. 

Kinoshita finds deleted camera footage on a bank robbery, and Ennoshita figures out who took the money. A judge was murdered? The killer decided to take a snap of him? Boom. Case solved. An unsuspecting stranger accidentally tapes a kidnapping? No problem. They've already finished the paperwork. 

They were the _perfect_ duo. 

It's absurd how much he wants something like that. 

“I'd like that.”

“The usual? With extra fries?” he asks, already dialing the number. 

“Yes, please.”

Kinoshita walks away to Ennoshita's desk, and Tadashi turns back to his own work. He has better things to focus on. He reattaches his headphones and plays a recording, a transmission someone accidentally received the other night. 

“ _-unning down north street. Currently going at eleven kilometers per hour. Catch-_ ”

It's a weird code, he deciphers, poorly made and in need of better consistency. The speaker sounds hurried, talking like he's in a rush. He decides it’s nothing important and starts filing it into the “Probably a Prank” folder. He plays a different one. 

“ _-an’t find him. Let’s try again tomor-_ ”

It’s the same made-up (half-assed) language, the new voice equally as funny sounding. He figures it’s a reply to the first one. He files it under the same folder.

It goes like that for another half hour. The same words, the same voices, the same actions. Click, listen, file. Click, listen, file. Click, listen, file. Soon, the recordings turn into static in his head, and he has to clean his ears with annoying pop music to ease his headache. It was slowly turning into his own living hell.

"The delivery’s here. You look like you need some food.” Ennoshita comes up behind him and ruffles his hair. He doesn’t have to check to know that he made it even messier than before.

“What I need is to go home.” He tries to laugh, but he’s oddly worried it sounds like sobbing, “I’m sorry, but I think I'm done for today.” 

Ennoshita nods, and passes him a small novel and his food. It smells like grease and that’s either making him really hungry or really nauseous. He’s not sure. His body stopped making sense when he turned fourteen.

“Okay. Walk home safely. The streets are dangerous at night." He smiles. "And tell Tsukishima thank you for me. It was a really good book,” he says and starts slurping his soda. 

“Well, no one really expected Devin to be over th-”

“No spoilers!” Kinoshita shouts from the desk over, mouth full of breadsticks. 

Ennoshita laughs for a moment, then types something into his phone. 

“Who are you texting?”

“My drinking buddy,” he replies, “He wants to meet up later.”

“You don't look like you drink.” Tadashi starts fixing his things.

“That's the thing, he doesn't. He's so lonely, he has to get drunk to make friends,” Kinoshita pipes up behind more breadsticks. 

“I don't. He's actually an old friend from high school. Did _you_ have friends in high school?”

Tadashi laughs as he's walking out.

“I think there's ice in the refrigerator. You should take care of that burn.” He chuckles. “See you tomorrow.”

Ennoshita and Kinoshita (though annoyed) wave at him. He can still hear their conversation from the hallway. 

“I had a few friends actually, we meet every month. How often do you guys meet?”

“Um, well- at least I'm not crushing on my hot neighbor.”

“How old am I? Twelve? I'm not crushing on Narita.”

“I never said it was Narita.”

It's getting harder to hear them now that he's nearing the exit. 

“He's the only hot neighbor I have. I'm pretty sure he's straight, though.”

“Did he turn you down?”

“Never asked. He _seems_ straight.”

“So, you're assuming he's-”

And then he's out the door. 

\---

Light fills the room as he enters the apartment. It's still cold inside. Tsukki likes it better that way. 

Tsukki’s on his laptop when he opens the door. All the lights are off, and Tsukki probably wants the apartment to look as dark as his soul (Sorry, Tsukki!). By the looks of it, he's on his third bottle of Gatorade (something he desperately pretends to hate), and his fourth all-nighter. He's either pretending he doesn't notice him come in, or he's too focused to care. 

“How's it going, Tsukki?”

He cranes his neck to look at him, and the change of position allows Tadashi to see piles of tiny paper cranes on the table. It scares him that he's doing origami. He only does that when he's about to break down. 

“You should go to sleep soon,” Tsukki says and turns back to his screen. 

“You too.”

“I don't have class until 3 PM. I can stay awake for a few more hours,” he replies and starts typing. It follows an arrhythmic beat, like he's forgotten the keys or as if he's run out of ideas. He looks like he can't seem to think straight. 

“I think you need to sleep. I doubt you'll finish that at this rate.”

He sits on the seat facing Tsukki’s, and he starts eating his food. He passes a burger and some fries. 

“You have to eat first, though.” 

He takes a bite out of the burger, but he's still trying to do his work. They spend a few minutes in silence as they eat, but by the time Tadashi's finished his meal, Tsukki isn't halfway done with his food. He nibbles on it like he's trying to impersonate a rabbit (after watching one eat a watermelon, he couldn't stop imagining him as a Flemish Giant rabbit), and at some point stops eating entirely to furiously type. 

“You're gonna kill yourself.”

“Good.” He doesn't look up from the screen. 

“Tsukki-”

“Yes. I know.” He gives him a look and makes air quotes. “"Death isn't the answer."”

Tadashi laughs and starts cleaning up. (He's somewhat hoping Tsukki didn't see him spill ketchup everywhere, but he doubts it. He had always been perceptive.) 

“It's good to know that you're learning, Tsukki.”

“Of course. Wouldn't want to waste three years of med school on something stupid like dying, do we?”

Tadashi laughs louder and Tsukki smiles, just a fraction of a twitch. (He has now finished his ‘Don't Let Tsukki Die Quota,’ and he's really proud of it. He even got the guy to _smile_ tonight). He walks to the garbage bin and throws their trash. 

“Good night. Don't stay up too late.” He takes a paper crane. “I'm bringing this to my room. My Pikachu needs more friends.”

“That Pikachu has more friends than you do.”

“He has more friends than the both of us _combined_ , and that's not enough.”

“One, that's depressing, two, that's hurting my already dwindling self-confidence, and three, so what?”

He snickers, and walks to his room.

“Sorry, Tsukki. I'll try to be more tactful.”

Tadashi is by the door when he hears him. 

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, softer and lighter than how he spoke earlier. Tadashi smiles wider. 

“Goodnight, Tsukki.”

\---

“What do you want for dinner?” Kinoshita asks him. “We're planning on getting fast food again tonight.”

Tadashi nods his head, eyes trained on a letter they received earlier. He yawns and his eyes are drooping. He hardly slept last night. 

Kiyoko had just left, a smile on her face as Yachi came to pick her up, and the moon was slowly rising higher. Stars peeked from out the window and the wind whistled a quiet tune. Kinoshita looked as tired as ever, and Ennoshita was having his own “ _movie marathon_.” Yamaguchi feels like they’re edging more towards change.

“Have you heard? Apparently, there's a couple vigilantes running around town. They say the police are having a meltdown,” he continues. He starts twirling his pencil between his fingers. Yamaguchi knows that took him a while to master. He's seen him spend weeks practicing that. 

“Have you heard of something called _focus_?” Ennoshita says. He sounds more annoyed than usual. He pulls his headphones down to his neck and pulls at his hair. 

“I need a break.” He resumes twirling the pencil. “Suga isn't here anymore, and he's been drilling me for the whole day. It's making my brain turn into goo.”

“And with reason. It's almost been a week , and we haven't solved this case yet.” He stares at the computer screen with worry. “This hasn't happened before. Don't you think it's weird? You've been spending hours looking for the same camera recordings, and I can hardly get any info out of HD footage. It's almost like someone's messing with us.”

Ennoshita takes his earphones off completely. He stops pulling his hair and starts cracking the knuckles on his left hand. Yamaguchi isn't sure he knows he's doing it. 

“I haven't been sleeping well lately. Sleep deprivation affects work performance. Maybe you're tired too. It's all paranoia, believe me. You're just stressed.” He’s twirling it again. He doesn’t stop.

“We've worked better with less sleep. This is too much, even for us.” He seems to have noticed he's been cracking his knuckles. He stops doing it. 

“We're getting old, Ennoshita. Our bodies simply can't keep up anymore.” He stops twirling his pencil too. 

“I hope that's it.”

The food arrives and they all eat in silence.

None of them get any work done. 

\---

It’s cold and dark when he gets home. He figures Tsukki’s still out. He walks past the light switches and doesn't bother to turn them on, (he regrets it once he's in the living room. He almost trips on the coffee table), but he's shocked to see Tsukki sleeping on the couch. 

“You're gonna kill yourself.”

He wants to wake him. His day never feels complete without them talking, and they hardly see each other anymore. He leaves too early in the morning, and Tsukki comes back too late at night. He knows he's busy - they're both busy - but he craves for peace, for happiness and for comfort. He wants to wake him, because he finds all of that in Tsukki. 

Sometimes, he can _only_ find it in Tsukki. 

He turns to his room and snags an extra blanket. He timidly drapes it over him and pushes his glasses farther from the edge of the table. He doesn’t want them to fall off and have Tsukki lose a pair. He tries to be careful, Tsukki had always been a light sleeper. He walks back to his room and locks the door. 

“Goodnight, Tsukki,” he whispers to his bedroom wall. He unknowingly waits for a reply, but nothing comes.

\---

“What do you want for dinner?” Kinnoshita asks him. “Fast food again?”

Yamaguchi’s tired. He doesn't bother to disagree. 

\---

“Goodnight, Tsukki.” he whispers. 

Tsukki doesn't come home by the time he's asleep. 

\---

He's leaving the building with an empty stomach. It wasn't a problem, this was never anything new. He's skipped meals before and he knows Tsukki has done worse. His nights have been going on loop, and he needs to escape it. 

He walks beside busy streets, all busy rumbling with traffic. He can see people laughing past restaurant windows, but no matter how keen his ears are, he can't hear them. He's in a part of town he never visits. His sense of direction was pretty good, so he's not lost. (It actually camr from a defense mechanism against Tsukki, who couldn't tell his left from his right.)

Midnight approaches.

It starts raining.

It starts off as a meek drizzle, but fastens into a storm. The water had hardly dripped down store signs at first, but quickly, it turns into a heavy downpour and soaks him completely. 

He has to get into a departing bus for cover. He sees a few people run around in the rain. He hardly has enough change to get him a ride home and the old man in the bus is giving him a weird look. He doesn't mind, not really. People have given him weirder looks and he's grown immune to them. He'd like to think so, at least. 

The bus stop near his home isn't actually that near, and he's getting even more doused. He fumbles with the keys when he's in front of his door, because the neighbours might yell at him for getting the hallways wet. He doesn't mind their yelling, but Tsukki prefers it when it's quiet. 

He rushes to change and dry off, because Tsukki also hates it when he gets sick. There's hardly any clean clothes left, and he has to do their laundry soon. Again, he doesn't mind, at least Tsukki does the dishes. 

Tsukki isn't home when the sun rises, so he's probably sleeping at his classmate’s. “ _I don't mind_ ,” he tells himself. Tsukki was never his. He can do whatever he wants. 

He's lonely and tired, but he's been through worse. If he could've dealt with that, then he could deal with this. It wasn't a problem. 

He tries to convince himself he doesn't mind. 

\---

Yamaguchi had always feared change. 

***

More often than not, Akira wanted to be a police detective. He'd once visited his dad's old office when he was seven and decided that he'd never grow up to have a desk job. Even if it's what his mother wanted, he couldn't handle jobs in medicine because caring for people had felt too suffocating. Being a lawyer seemed wrong, and he didn't have the patience to be teacher. Getting a job with his Gift was completely out of the question and being a regular police officer was just too much work. 

Joining the Criminal Investigation Department (or CID as everyone else calls it) seemed like the only answer. The pay wasn't too bad, he didn't have to prolong his studies, and it wasn't too complicated. It was an easy job that didn’t make him feel like he was wasting his life.

Or perhaps that's what he'd like to think. 

Perhaps he had joined because he wanted to follow Kindaichi to the academy. Perhaps he couldn't decide for himself and got carried along by the current. Perhaps he had blocked all the other open paths, and walked this one because it felt like the safest. He isn't sure, and he will never be. No one can read him like how he reads others. 

He's not worried it was a bad move. He's relieved his coworkers are caring, and there have been times where he had genuinely enjoyed their company. It's been months since he's last seen Matsukawa and Hanamaki, but his life hasn't gone off the rails. Even if he's sad that Oikawa hasn't contacted him since his “Big Breakup of 2018,” he's met new people who ease his fears. He wouldn't say it was a good move, but he's sure it was never a bad one. 

He knows it _wasn't_ a bad move, he's just worried it _will_ be.

\---

“Yahaba still hasn't timed in. You'll sub for him, today,” Sergeant Iwaizumi tells him, “You'll be assisting Watari on his case,”

“Well, ever since the vigilante group made a name for itself, he's been skipping work. You don't think he's scared, do you?” Kindaichi comes from behind and passes a two-way radio.

“He's still playing hooky? That isn't like him.” Watari walks to their side of the room and says softly. It’s been more than a week since his partner has been to the station. 

The station is loud today. There are children crying and searching for their parents, there’s an elderly woman trying to find her cat, and a young couple is getting scolded for public indecency. There are too many people and it’s starting to get to his head. His walls are beginning to crumble and he’s not ready for the overflow of thoughts that come with it. He feels the need to leave.

“It’s that new boyfriend of his. He’s a bad influence,” Iwaizumi answers.

“What was his name again, Sergeant? Kyoden?” Kindaichi asks. Akira doesn't hear Iwaizumi’s response. 

Watari is getting ready to go, and Akira decides he'll go ahead to the car without him. He knows he'll catch up eventually, so he starts walking out to the police car. His partner will probably give him the case's rundown on the drive there. 

Eventually, Watari enters the driver’s seat and starts the engine. He doesn’t know where they’re going, but neither does he care. He’s hardly paying attention, focusing solely on the rumble of the car, so he’s a little shocked when he’s passed a Manila folder. 

“This was Yahaba’s old case. He was working on it before he decided to bail. Sarge told me to give it to you yesterday. I forgot about it. Sorry.” His eyes stay on the road.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” He’d rather not have it all. He adds, “Is this different from the one we're investigating?”

“Yeah, Sergeant’s planning on giving you some of his cases." He hums. "By the way, he says he wants to talk to you later. He told me it's important to the case.”

He opens the envelope and takes the papers out. One missing person, a 21 year old college student studying Physical Therapy. He looks too young, but the look on his face doesn’t sit right with Akira. 

“Why me?” 

“You’re one of the smartest guys we have on the team. It makes the most sense to me.” Watari’s voice is shakier than before. He sounds like he’s lying.

“But I’m also the least responsible guy we have.”

Akira lowers his barriers an inch, and listens in on his thoughts. Watari isn’t like this. Watari’s an honest man. 

_“Please take it away from me. I can’t do it."_ The words echo in his head.

He tries his best not to yawn. 

“You worked on this case too?”

Watari grips the steering wheel a little tighter and sighs. The air leaves his mouth like he expected Akira to read him. He probably did.

“Yes,” he says, his eyes continue to blankly stare at the road. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Akira respects that, and he respects his need for silence. They spend the rest of the ride wordlessly watching the road.

They arrive at an old and large boarding home. The sign " _Ohgi South_ ” stands proud by its entrance. With its crumbling walls and fading paint, it's a wreckage between all the other buildings. They pass through the main gate and go up the stairs. The floor creaks as they climb up. The interior doesn't appear any better than the outside, and he's worried about what they're about to get into. 

“There have been complaints about suspicious looking groups coming by at night, and some people have mentioned weird sounds,” he tells him. He's more surprised by the fact that that isn't a normal thing for them. He feels like it _should_ be, especially with how disturbing everything seems. 

A part of him hopes it isn’t a drug syndicate because news like that would mess with the community’s stability, and that would lead to a _lot_ of problems for the future. Relentlessly, another portion of his mind hopes it _is_ , just so he can pass the investigation off to the higher-ups. He realizes that sounds wrong. He decides he’ll keep that thought to himself.

“They don’t think it’s anything too serious, so they want _us_ to look into it,” he continues.

They try to look for some kind of surveillance system, but the structure lacks any. They devise a stake-out plan for Friday night.

“Don’t forget to talk to the sergeant,” Watari says, later on their way back. Akira doesn’t want to think about it.

\---

He enters Sergeant Iwaizumi’s office once there's only a handful of people left in the building. Kindaichi's waiting for him outside. He hopes the talk won't last too long. He doesn't want him to freeze outside. He doesn't like frozen onions. 

“You wanted to see me, Sarge?”

He seems so official behind his desk. Akira is used to seeing him talking with the others, drinking coffee with them, eating lunch like they all had the same rank. He's not sure he likes the new distinction. It scares him. 

“Take a seat. Have you read the case yet? Major crimes refuse to take it. Everyone else has their hands full.”

“What about Watari, Sergeant? Wasn't he on this case? Can't we work on it together?”

Iwaizumi shifts through his notebook. He can't see what's in it, but it looks like he's crossing something out. He hopes it's nothing about him. 

“Watari has been working on what _should_ be partnered cases all alone. He's the most overworked out of all of you.”

He's crossing more things out now. Akira’s starting to get worried. 

“Sir, I don't think I'm suited for this kind of case.”

“You're an intelligent bo- man, “ he corrects himself. “All you need is a push in the right direction. This will be good for you.”

Akira hates arguing with him, hates disagreeing with him at all, so he shuts his mouth and accepts the job. He doesn't _have_ to solve it, lots of cases end up unsolved. The only person telling him to do it is his conscience. He knows very well that his conscience isn't always right. 

“I hope you can find him soon.” 

He realizes he's been doing crossword puzzles. His discomfort lowers. 

Akira doesn't question him, and he doesn't bother to read his thoughts. He trusts Iwaizumi. He trusts no one more, and he’s known no one else longer - no one other than Kindaichi. So, when Iwaizumi lets him leave, he does. He does and he doesn't ask any more questions. 

Kindaichi’s waiting by the door when they're finished. He doesn't seem to mind the cold; he doesn't seem to mind waiting at all. It’s at times like these that Akira really feels their difference. He’s used to feeling this. Kindaichi had always been ahead of him in every sense. 

“Are you okay?” Kindaichi asks. 

“Yeah. You?” 

“I'm good.”

They've been together for so long that their silence has grown value. Like wine, friendships grow sweeter, better with time. Their lives have been intertwined since the beginning. Before Kageyama, before high school, before the academy. He truly treasures their relationship. He hopes it never ends. 

“That ended really quickly,” Kindaichi tries starting a conversation while they're packing up. 

“We didn't talk about anything important. He was just reminding me to do my job. The usual.” 

The conversation eventually shifts to Kindaichi’s current case. Something about missing eggs or something. Akira feels like he should react. He nods his head. Kindaichi continues speaking, and Akira continues drowning it out, but something catches his ear.

“We tried giving the case to these private detectives last week. It’s where one of Kageyama’s friends works.” They leave the station. “Sarge said they usually have really fast service, but they still haven’t solved it.”

Akira is faintly aware of what he's talking about. He's heard of them too. They've stolen a few of his cases. He owes them nights of sleep. 

“Flightless Crows?”

“Yeah. That one. He said they have some pretty great people. Kinda makes me wonder why they didn't apply here.”

“Maybe the pay’s better.” 

They don't work too far from the railway station, so as soon as they finish talking about the pros and cons of police work, they board a train. Akira hates public transport, but he’ll bear with it for a few minutes. He wonders how Kindaichi’s holding up. He doesn’t ask him. He’s sure Kindaichi’s fine. He’s always been the stronger one. 

They exit the train and walk down the road to their apartment complex. Kindaichi continues his rant - something about ceiling fans - and with a gentle wave, Akira is getting ready to turn at the corner. Kindaichi hasn't seemed to realize he's walked past his apartment door. 

“How about you tell me about the safety risks tomorrow.”

Kindaichi yelps. “Yeah. Sure. That's cool.” He backtracks a few steps and stands in front of his door. “Bye, Kunimi.”

Akira’s already walking away, but he spares Kindaichi one last glance and smiles, just a little bit. 

“Bye.”

\---

“Yahaba still hasn't timed in. This is getting problematic.” He hears Iwaizumi whisper to the phone when he follows Watari out the building. He wonders when he'll be coming back to the station.

“Back when he was your partner, did Yahaba seem like a slacker?” he asks him as he starts the engine. It takes a few tries, and Watari is getting progressively more annoyed every time. Akira thinks the stress is getting the better of him. That's dangerous. 

“Him?” He snorts. “If only. He’s so aggressively determined to get the job done, it’s almost annoying.” The car finally starts, and he begins to back up. It's a little too fast and they almost hit a dustbin. Things aren't looking good for them today. 

“Then why isn't he working? Is he sick?”

“I called him this morning, and he said he was fine. I tried going to his house, but I don't think he lives there anymore.”

“Maybe he's getting into something illegal.” He hopes Watari laughs at his joke.

He doesn't. “I hope not. We've got enough to worry about.” 

A few minutes pass and they reach Ohgi South. Everything still looks the same, but there's a weird smell going around the corridor. He hopes nothing has died. It’s probably just some old food, though.

“I called someone on the phone earlier. He agreed to talk to us.” Watari tells him. They knock on Room 201. No one answers the door. 

“Sorry, Sir! I didn't expect you to come yet!” 

A pair of thundering feet come with the new voice. There's a young man running up to them from the staircase. He's running like it's his lifeline and it's making Akira feel like he's in a drama. He doesn't like that thought. Drama is annoying.

“I’m Akimiya Noboru. I’m sorry I’m late.” He fumbles with his keys and opens the door.

“It’s alright. We don’t mind,” Watari says as he enters. 

The guy offers them drinks, and Watari drinks what would probably be too much coffee. Akira wonders when he can come back to the station. 

\---

“How was the interview?” Iwaizumi asks from behind his computer screen. “Anything valuable?”

“He talked about this group called _Spirit Foxes_ , sir. We’re not sure if it’s an illegal organization, but we’re going to keep an eye on it.”

“Sounds edgy.”

Akira thinks so too. “The boarders have seen the supposed members try to break into one of the rooms.”

“Who owns it?”

“We weren’t able to find out. We tried asking the other rooms if they knew who lived inside, but none of them do. There aren’t any records either. Watari and I will be doing another stakeout the night after tomorrow, sir.”

“That’s good to know. And what about your personal case?” The printer comes to life.

“I’m going to ask around his old school, sir. That’s where he was last seen.” 

He looks up from his papers and work, and he gives Akira a serious look. Akira feels an itch at the back of his neck and something burns up his spine. He tries to ignore it. It’s probably nothing. 

“I know you can handle it.”

“Forgive me, sir, but you’re sounding a lot like Oikawa.”

He doesn’t give him an immediate response, and Akira doesn’t expect one at all, but Iwaizumi goes back to his computer and replies.

“We’re birds of a feather, after all.”

This is getting too personal. He shouldn’t have mentioned Oikawa.

Akira clears his throat. “May I go now, sir?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t spare him a glance anymore and focuses solely on his work. 

“You may.”

Akira turns to the door and walks away.

“Be careful,” Iwaizumi tells him.

He fixes his things and leaves the station with Kindaichi. 

“I have a date later,” Kindaichi tells him on the train. They don’t talk after that and today’s silence is different. Akira doesn’t really mind; conversations were always too much work. 

“Bye,” Akira says when Kindaichi reaches his door.

Kindaichi gives him a small wave.

\---

“Yahaba still hasn’t timed in,” Iwaizumi says. “You’ll be taking care of most of his cases from now on.”

Akira wants Yahaba to go back to work. 

\--- 

The walk back home from the station is the quietest it’s ever been. Akira doesn’t like the silence anymore. 

“Bye,” Akira says, and turns to look at him.

The sound of a closing door answers back.

\---

The first hour of the stakeout goes along without incident. A few passersby walk by their window and block the view, but Akira can handle it. It’s only a few seconds lost. Sadly, it's making Watari more jittery, and he grows more and more impatient the more minutes tick by. The stress really seems to be getting to him. 

It's a quarter to midnight and ashen clouds are blooming in the sky. They see a hooded figure walk inside. They snap a few photos. 

Another few minutes go by, and they see another person walk in. He's young, with dark hair and a good build, but he looks tired. They catch a picture before he stumbles through the main door. Akira doesn't understand why, but he seems familiar. 

Just seconds after he enters, they hear a shout from inside. A series of noises follow. The rumbling of footsteps. The beginning of an argument. The young man bursts from the door, and the hooded figure surges to him. He feels something turn in his stomach.

Akira remembers his missing person’s case. He understands why the dark-haired man looks so familiar now. 

He's about to ask Watari to run out with him and bring a stop to what's happening, but he stops when he sees the bags under his eyes and the clench in his jaw. A wave of pity consumes him. He can't do this. He weighs his options and checks his gun in its holster. He makes a decision. 

“Stay here and check if anyone comes inside. I'll run after them.”

There's another itch at the back of his neck. A quiet “ _thank you_ ,” enters his mind and his eyes droop a little. 

He runs out the door. 

He's only used up a few seconds, but he's already lost the other three. He lowers his barriers a little. He tries searching for them. 

He lowers them a little more. 

To his left, he hears a panicked, “ _Go faster_ ,” and a determined “ _Catch him._ ” He knows where to go.

He's sure the only thing keeping him going is the adrenaline, but he doesn't falter in his steps. He takes a shortcut through an alleyway and he sees a brush of legs turn at the corner. He tries to go faster, but he's getting progressively more tired. His walls are back up but his fatigue isn't getting any better. This isn't good.

It starts raining. 

There are two short beeps resounding into his right ear. One short beep and two long ones follow. It ends with one short beep and one long beep. He's unsure if he should answer while running, and he doesn't want to lose them any more than he has already, but that sequence is only for emergencies. He has to take it.

He answers the sergeant's call.

“Kunimi, listen clos-” He hears from the earpiece.

“Sarge, I’m currently in active pursuit of a suspect. May I contact you later?”

“Drop the case,” is his sole reply.

He doesn't understand. 

“Sir, I don’t know what you mean. I’m about to lose them. I'm-” Slowing down. He's not going fast enough. 

“You’re not allowed to pursue the missing person case anymore.”

He doesn't understand. 

“I’m meters away from him. Sir, I'm losing them. I-” can't keep up. He can't handle their pace. 

“Kunimi, that's an order.”

He's tired. He slows to a jog, a walk, and he stops.

“Was that all you wanted to say, sir?” He watches a bus pass by. 

“Document him as deceased.”

“But, I just saw him, sir.” He tries to find cover from the rain by an alley. He leans against the wall. He can't handle the smell. 

“He'll be dead soon enough.”

“Sir, what are yo-”

He ends the call. 

Akira doesn't understand. 

He spends his next few minutes walking back to Watari. He can't handle running for so long. He's wet and he doesn't like it. His earpiece might be broken because of the water, and he can't see where he's going with how strong the rain is. He's still panting from his run. He's tired. He's really tired. 

Akira tries to be grateful. He's not responsible enough to take so many cases. Even if he might’ve been able to solve it tonight, he would still waste hours on paperwork. He can't handle that. 

He knows he can't handle it. 

\---

More often than not, Akira hadn’t cared about change. 

***

There had been times when Satori had seen himself working as a Gift facilitator. He’d seen it in his premonitions, and he even fought to stop it from happening. He _tried._ Tried is the better word. Instead of changing his future, he had learned that people like Semi were stubborn and persuasive - and that he would probably do _anything_ for some limited edition merch. 

Hell, he had labored under what was probably one of the world’s strictest training regimens - for _five_ years - all for a special signed manga volume. He'd worked day and night, he had sweat blood and tears. He doesn't even try to remember the number of bruises he's gotten while training. He's broken his nose too many times to count. 

Despite everything though, he thinks it’s worth it. After all, it has a handwritten note from his favorite mangaka. Things like that only come once in your life. Hands down, it was the best thing he's ever received, though he still doesn’t know how Semi got his hands on one. ( _And_ he found his own little side of paradise within his team. He even gets to work with Ujishima. _The_ Ujishima. Joining the Gift Management Division - and _fighting crime_ \- was probably the best thing ever. Thanks, Eita!)

Joining the division was such an exciting experience, and it brought him so many _wild_ memories. Still, he wonders if it's really better than living the life of a freelance artist. If it's better than spending hours, days and weeks, on the one thing he really finds happiness in. Was it really worth putting his real dreams aside for all this? He doesn't know. 

Knowing that he _can_ still paint, he _can_ still sculpt, and that he _can_ still draw, is something that eases his mind, since _that's_ his real passion. It's just that he wonders, will he regret this when he's eighty-two, crippled and on his deathbed? Will he look back on this and think: _You've wasted your life._

Thoughts like that always stop him from going at full force during missions, so he tries to avoid them at all costs. He's not going to be the team's Achilles' heel all ‘cause of his own mental insecurity. No one needs a weak link. He's not _that_ kind of burden, and he's not going to get his friends - _or_ _himself -_ killed because of his own dumb pity parties. How stupid would that be?

\---

“I swear to God!” Eita exclaims, “Shut up and _move_!”

“You must be _loud_ in bed, my dear!” Satori laughs. 

“Will you shut it already?!” 

Eita ducks and dodges a flying lamppost. He runs to the back of a small convertible and aims his net gun at the stone golem. He hits it dead on, but the big hunk of rock breaks free. Now angrier, the golem continues to throw everything he can grab at him. 

“I’m just saying, Semisemi! We just need to suffocate them with some sand or gravel! Drop a couple blocks on them, then _boom_! Poppies and ingots!” Satori shouts from his side of the street. He’s having a harder time fighting them off, and he’s not in a position to use his powers yet. 

“Motherfucking-! This isn’t Minecraft, Tendou!” Kenjirou comes to Eita’s aid and shoots at the golem’s joints, but the bullets don’t do anything to them. A few bits of ice form at the base of its legs and it stops moving. Eventually, the golem breaks free, but the ice crawling up its feet slows it down.

“And this isn’t Resident Evil, Kenjirou! Shooting its knees won’t do shit!”

“Please! Stop arguing!” Reon tells them and slashes a golem in half. The top half falls off, but the legs start aimlessly running around. It runs - headfirst? - into a fire hydrant and breaks. “Yamagata, have your falcons found the criminal yet?”

“They’re still searching. He might’ve hidden in one of the buildings.” Hayato claws at one of the golems' faces with his talons. It soundlessly screeches - is that a thing? - and Reon comes to break it into pieces. The rocks disintegrate and Hayato pats the dust off of the feathers on his arms. 

Armed with nothing but his fists, Wakatoshi destroys the golem chasing after Satori - Seriously, can that guy be any more amazing? - and he calls after him, “Look for him. We’ll cover for you.”

Satori laughs and ducks under some flying rocks. “I don’t think I can find him any better than Earth's fastest predatory birds, but I guess I can try. Which direction did he run off to?”

“He means with your Gift, dumbass!” He hears Kenjirou say behind a van. 

“That-” Wakatoshi says in that wonderful deep voice of his, “wasn't what I had meant, though that would be preferable.”

With a mock salute, Satori enters an alleyway and tries to ignore the fight five meters away from him. He's definitely safe, especially when the others have his back. It would probably be better if Kenjirou took the stick out of his ass, but he's a good fighter nonetheless. They can manage. 

He hears Reon shout something to Eita about the golems reforming. He mi- Oh! How awesome would it be if the golems actually _did_ drop poppies? He'd finally have a gift for his mother's birthday. Would she even like flowers, though? Maybe jewelry would be bette-

_They rush into a shopping center. It's a clothing store with a fancy brand Satori doesn't recognize. There are about fifty civilians milling about. It takes a while, but they eventually spot the criminal by the mannequins. They all run to him, but it gets the man's attention, and he hurries to bring his gun out. A lady beside him sees it and she starts shouting. Everyone starts panicking._

_They run faster, but the guy starts running too. He starts a chase in-between the crowds, and for a second, they lose him. They find him again, but he's already near the exit. The crowd disperses to the sides, and they end in a standstill. The criminal points his gun at Eita. He's got his finger on the trigger and one foot out the door._

_Inversely, Kenjirou aims at him too. No one moves. Time stops for a moment._

_Kenjirou shoots his gun and things start progressing again. He hits the guy, but that doesn't cut off his escape. A bullet whizzes past, but Eita says he isn't hurt. Wakatoshi’s already out of the shop, and Hayato hurries after him, already close behind. They continue on with their pursuit._

_Their criminal stumbles to the water fountain in the center of the mall. His blood is soaking his coat and it forms a thin trail on the floor. Spreading. The blood is spreading. It begins from his shoulder and it branches out to his arm, his back, the tiles. He slows down to a brisk walk and he trips over the fountain’s edge. The blood spreads to the water. It changes it into a murky red._

_They catch him, but he dies on the way back. It's Kenjirou’s first confirmed kill. He doesn't seem to look that guilty about it, but-_

“Guess who found the criminal!” Satori shouts. 

“You did! We're so proud of you!” Kenijrou says sarcastically. 

“He's in the mall if you gentlemen wanted to know! We'll catch him there!” He laughs and calls out to the others. 

“Thank you!” Eita shouts, “I don't have to deal with these walking rocks anymore!”

“Someone's gotta take care of what's left of these guys!” Hayato brings his talons down on a golem. 

Reon breaks another one with his sword. “I can do it.”

Satori’s really excited about their mission today. It's been a while since they've gotten one so dangerous. If he gets grand-kids or any nieces or nephews, this will _definitely_ be a story he'll tell them. They'd be so amazed, and then maybe they'd start dreaming about being superheroes. He'd obviously show them some epic manga for inspiration first. They'd probably be really cute and-

“Lead the way Tendou,” Ushijima tells him. 

Like eighty percent of the time, everything goes according to his predictions. The mall, the guns, the blood. He'd been a little worried this wasn't a real vision, but the universe seems to be on his side today. Isn't that great? 

He wants to be proud, but it's hard not to notice Shirabu’s silence. 

\---

“Who wants dinner? I’m _starving_.” Satori makes sure to elongate the ‘ _a_ ’ in _starving._ “There’s this really cool looking diner down by South Boulevard. We should check it out!”

The others are busy resting, but Eita still has the energy to snark, “We’re in, as long as you’re paying.”

Satori makes an effort to shake his head as hard as possible. He even adds a little frown for emphasis. “No can do. I’m broke as fuck. How about Wakatoshi, though? This dude saves more money than he saves lives. That’s saying something.”

Something about the slight downturn of his mouth really exhilarates Satori. Getting _any_ reaction out of him is electrifying. Maybe it’s ‘cause the guy is as expressionless as a tree trunk. (He's not that far off the mark. The guy's _built_ like one at least.)

“The dorm provides our daily meals. Eating out would be a waste of money.”

“But, what else can we use all our money for? Live a little, big guy!” Satori walks to his side and pats his shoulder. Wakatoshi furrows his brows and Satori smiles. Isn't that just cute? 

“It could be used for life insurance, Tendou.”

“Hey, there’s more to life than death, you know!”

Hayato laughs at that, and Reon smiles. He gets a tiny smirk out of Eita and Kenjirou-

_Kenjirou stands tall. He stands firm and he stands with his head held high. He's moving with prestige, with an unignorable sense of pomposity and vanity. He doesn’t speak to anyone. He doesn’t talk to them when he passes. He's only walking with innate confidence, and he walks in stride._

_He walks into his room. He locks the door, and he starts crying._

_Quiet sobs of “Murderer,” “Killer,” and “Butcher,” are all Satori can hear from him. It’s unnerving seeing him like this. He’s not used to watching him without a hint of composure. Kenjirou was never a man to put his heart on his sleeve. He was never someone to feel so freely._

_The temperature drops and ice builds up underneath Kenjirou’s fingertips. The ice travels outward. “_ Spreading. It's spreading,” _Satori thinks once more. It travels, to the bed, the curtains. To the ceiling, to the door. Satori hears a familiar voice past the wall. He tries to listen as best as he can._

_“Shirabu?” Eita asks, “What's wrong?”_

_Kenjirou tries to take a calming breath. He tries to steady his voice enough to tell him to mind his own business. Eita doesn't._

_In hardly a minute, he's opened the door. He watches Kenjirou with a face of worry and a flicker of disappointment. Satori has seen that look pointed at him more times than he'd like to admit, more times than he should. This is the first time he's seen it directed at someone else._

_Eita uses his Gift and lowers the room's temperature. The ice doesn't disappear, only melts into a messy slush on the floor. He sits Kenjirou on the bed, and rubs his shoulders as he whimpers out the last of his tears. Eita’s lips are tinged blue, but that seems to be the least of his problems._

_“Shirabu,” he says again, “What's-”_

Satori hates random visions. 

The others are all looking expectantly, like kids waiting for a story. He laughs in his head. What's he meant to say? “ _Guess what I just saw? Our boy Kenjirou was having a mental breakdown!_ ” Kenjirou would probably kill him in his sleep if he tried. Not today, Satan. 

“You were out for a while. Welcome back.” Wakatoshi says seriously. 

He scoffs, “Thanks, Waka.”

\---

“I swear to God.” Eita scolds, “You have to be more careful when we’re out in the field! You almost died out there!” 

“But I didn’t. Wakatoshi was there and he knocked the guy out before he could stab me.” Satori bandages the small cuts on his leg. If only Eita would stop bitching and start helping him. 

“And what if he wasn’t there with us today? What if he was too late?”

“Then I’d be dead right now.” Satori refuses the urge to say “ _Duh_.” He gets up from the floor. “It doesn’t matter, though. I’m still alive.”

“Hey - Where are you going?” Eita pulls his arm.

“Chill. I’m going to the vending machine. I’m not planning on meeting up with the Grim Reaper anytime soon.” Satori turns to walk away. 

“Tendou, you need to take your life more seriously. Think about your mother. How would she-” 

Taichi enters the room with the slam of the door. _Thankfully_ , he interrupts Eita’s guilt-inducing speech. Good job, Taichi. 

“We have a new mission. Commander Washijo told me to come along.”

That part isn't so good. 

“You’ve only been training for four years! It’s too dangerous!” Satori exclaims, in a bad impression of Eita’s voice.

“ _Tendou,_ ” Eita says through clenched teeth. “Can you stop being so childish for one minute?”

“What was that, Semisemi? Oh! How about we save that for later. We have a mission to get to.” Satori brushes him off. He gets his equipment bag off the table and goes to Taichi, still awkwardly standing by the door. 

“Lead the way, my valiant prodigy.”

“Yes, sir. So-”

“What did we say about formalities?”

“Yes, Tendou,” he corrects himself and they all leave the room. Eita still looks constipated, but who cares? “We'll be having a joint operation with the Stray Cats Squad. A small gang has infiltrated the police station and is currently going on a rampage. We'll be taking care of that.”

“Fun. It's always a party when the kitties are there.” Satori wonders how things will go. Those police officers sure are pathetic if they can't even handle a _small_ gang. No wonder this city’s drowning in shit. They-

_They try to intervene, but they're a second too late. The cabinet is hurled, hitting Taichi. He stumbles and falls backward. That's not what his arm's supposed to look like, right? Taichi’s right-handed, that would be a big problem. Satori was supposed to keep an eye on him. How could he-_

Okay. 

He decides that vision isn't real. It's probably his imagination again. 

But, Taichi goes home with his arm in a sling, and Satori isn't so sure anymore. 

\---

“Never let your guard down in a fight, Taichi.” Eita raises his brow at him. Satori acts like he hadn't seen it. “Mental Gifts like ours require us to focus. _Constantly._ You gotta remember that when we're in a mission.”

Taichi nods. He shifts a bit on the sofa. 

“Now, what do you say about dinner? You've gotta be hungry. I found this awesome diner down by Sou-”

Taichi interrupts him by getting up. He shakes his head. 

“No, thank you. I'll just go to bed.”

That's not good. 

“C’mon!” Satori insists, “You gotta replenish your strength!” 

Taichi isn't swayed and continues to walk to the door. He stops only to turn his head and reply. 

“It's alright. I'll pass.”

Satori doesn't understand why he's sulking. Shouldn't he be making an effort to make himself stronger? What’ll that do for him? He's just wasting his time, wasting _everyone's_ time. If only that would get into that thick head of his. _God_ , if only he would listen to-

 _He hears the slamming of the door again. It pounds against his ears. Taichi really should learn to enter rooms properly. Though, if Satori were to think about it, he's no better of a person than Taichi is. Why did they give him the role of tutoring him? Was it because of their Gifts? Anyone could've been a better teacher._ Anybody _. Anybody but him._

_The whispers of a piano crack the newly-dawning silence. It's missing something, he only hears the main melody. There are chords missing, harmonies lost. He doubts anybody can hear the tune. The dorm walls are thicker than one would expect. The thought’s relieving yet depressing._

_Satori realizes Taichi’s playing a keyboard. Playing only with his left hand. He looks burdened by it, even if he's not using the hand he's hurt. How long will it be before he gets to play properly? When will someone hear the real song? As soon as it's not incomplete? Will Taichi let anyone hear it at all? Satori wonders-_

Satori acts like he hadn't seen it, and he brushes it off. It's easier to ignore visions than it is to ignore Eita. He feels guilty when he ignores Eita. Guilt doesn't follow with visions. 

Satori must look sad because Wakatoshi comes up to him. 

“Don't worry, you're a great mentor. He simply needs time to develop,” he bluntly reassures. 

Satori tries to smile. “Thanks, Waka.”

\---

“I swear to God!” Eita shouts, “Can you be any more stupid?!”

The nurses have to escort him out of the room because of all the noise he's making. Satori isn't even that hurt. They just need to patch him up a little more, then he'll be out and about by tomorrow. Eita’s just overreac-

_“Tendou! Don't you dare die on me!” he screams, tears flowing and voice cracking, “I'm not losing my best friend too!”_

Satori blames it on his imagination and carries on with his day. 

\---

Eita’s still ignoring him and it's causing a rift among the team. He doesn't care. Things will get better eventually. Time will heal their friendship, just like every other time they'd fought.

_“You have to talk to him eventually, Tendou,” Reon’s somber voice tells him. He-_

“Do not worry. He’ll forgive you eventually.” 

Satori isn't worried. But he’s grateful for the assurance. 

“Thanks, Waka.”

\---

Satori’s sneaking out.

He _would’ve_ left normally, but _somebody_ (his physician) imprisoned him to bed rest. He’s got no other choice but to go in “Epic Spy Mode” to try the new diner’s midnight promo.

 _Maybe_ he’s doing this to piss Eita off, but what’s so wrong with that? The guy needs to realize that he can handle himself. Yeah, he broke his wrist yesterday. Yeah, he still reads the same manga he did when he was eleven. Yeah, he's _really_ immature - but he's twenty-eight. He’s far from being a child. He doesn’t need Eita’s mothering. He _never_ needs it. 

The hallway, the streets, the walk. They’re all quiet, like they should be. His team works hard to make sure of that, and as annoying as his best friend can be, he still doesn’t want all his effort to go down the drain. All the time and energy the others have spent is too priceless too. Things like that shouldn’t ever go to waste. 

The echo of his steps sway in the air and dance in the wind. It’s one of the few sounds going around the city. His ears are empty, aside from the drunken chatter of college students and the rumble of the few cars that pass by. 

He misses the nightly sounds that come with the province. The chirping of the crickets. The cackle of the wind against the leaves. Animals noisily living out their lives, even after the sun has set. He wonders if Wakatoshi misses it too, or if Eita has realized its beauty after being away from it for so long. Night back there was tranquil - peaceful - but here, the silence, the noise, everything had an edge of _something._ Something that scared him.

They should go back soon, once Eita’s cooled down. His mother’s birthday is coming up - he has to buy her a cool gift by next week - and he’s sure Wakatoshi would love any opportunity to go back to his mom’s farm. Maybe the others would like to come as well. Their quarterly vacation breaks are coming up too. They could visit the province with them. That would be _fun._ They could-

Oh no.

He’s lost.

He’d been mindlessly wandering for so long that he’d probably taken the wrong street or missed a turn. Fuck. They have their weekly training tomorrow at dawn. Commander Washijo is going to _kill_ him. Maybe he can call a taxi? There should be a bus stop nearby-

It starts raining. 

_Wonderful._

Finding a way back to the dorms is progressively getting harder and harder by the minute. The rain is blocking his view and he doesn't recognize _anything._ There's someone walking around, but he doesn't seem to have a problem with being all wet. He sees a bus pass by, but they don't stop him. Great. Amazing. He's truly receiving fate’s graces right now. This is the _best-_

Wow. 

Tonight's _filled_ with surprises. 

He turns his head and sees a young man shivering and curled up in the rain. He can't ignore the way he's panting, Satoris not sure if it's from the cold or from exertion, but the sight pains him.

It brings back memories he can't ignore. Memories of guilt, shame and regret. Of failed dreams and broken promises. Of loss and heartbreak. Memories of things he'd rather forget. Perhaps that’s what brings him to approach the man. Perhaps that’s what makes him feels things he’d rather not. 

Perhaps that’s why Satori won’t ignore it.

\---

There had been times when Satori had hoped for change. 

***

Running.

He doesn’t stop running. He won’t stop running. He _can’t_ stop running. He can’t.

He doesn’t want them to catch him. He won’t _let_ them catch him. He can’t die. Not yet.

There’s no doubt that they’ll kill him as soon as he stops, but they’re bound to be tired too. He doubts they have the stamina. The footsteps he hears, past all the pitter-patter of rain, are gradually slowing. It sounds like the stranger is slowing down. He turns at a corner, and turns again after passing another few. He doesn’t hear anything behind him. He tries to calm down. 

He doesn’t.

His feet topple and he collapses onto the pavement. He crawls into an alleyway, fully drenched and muddy, but he only manages a few meters. He’s tired, he’s exhausted, but his heartbeat’s still rapid. His breaths aren’t steadying.

The rain slows down, but it doesn’t stop.

It slows enough for him to hear a new pair of quiet and measured footsteps, too rhythmic to be his chaser (who he doubts has the energy to come this far). He brings his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them, hoping to make himself look smaller. It doesn’t work.

“Hey, are you okay?” The man asks him. “Should I call an ambulance? The police?”

His head snaps up and everything is blurry, but he sees a flash of red. It’s his hair. 

“Please! D-don’t!” he stutters out. 

“Oh. Okay.” The man looks conflicted. “Just- I’ll call my friend. We’ll help you.”

He doubts this man can do anything worse to him, so he doesn’t object. Or maybe he’s too tired to.

He hears the man argue on the phone. Hears the name Seni-Seni? Sedi-Sedi? He isn’t sure. He doesn’t really care. After he ends the call, he turns back to him and crouches down, eyes in level with his.

“He’s going to pick us up soon. Ten minutes - tops. Just stay strong for me, buddy.” He pauses. “What’s your name?”

He prays he won’t hurt him. Trust is a strong word, but in what other way can he describe this? He’s giving his life away to this stranger in hopes that he’s telling the truth. Trust or not, he doubts he has any other choice. 

“Goshiki,” he strangles out, “Goshiki Tsutomu.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao I hope you noticed that I've been putting in a few alliterations and repeated words lol. Sometimes I don't notice them when I reread it so I'm wondering if you (as the reader) do. Like, some are obvious like when I started the sentence with perhaps a lot, but I'm wondering if you've notice how I used crane in two different ways in one paragraph or when I use a word from the last sentence in the first sentence of the next paragraph.
> 
> This took over a month because this school year is seriously _wild_. I'm only 3 months in and I already want a comet to hit Earth and kill me lmao. 
> 
> That's all. Honestly, thank you for reading.


	3. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It rains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured it was about time the others arrived.
> 
> *** signifies change of character perspective  
> \--- signifies scene change  
>  _Italics_ are flashbacks, dreams, visions, etc.

The cool thing about being a trainee for the Gift Management Division is the dorm. Well, it isn't really a dorm. It's more like an office building with ten bedroom apartments on the highest floors. But, the office part of the building is really boring 'cause all they do there is have meetings. Well, that's where the call centers are and that's where the medical bay is, but it's not like Lev can do anything cool down there without getting yelled at. Still, even with the boring-ness of the bottom floors, Lev likes living with his teammates (even if Yamamoto shouts a lot and Kenma plays video games at 3 in the morning). The only problem is that-

“Lev!” Yaku shouts from the hallway, “Hurry up!”

-It also means Yaku has more of a reason to get mad at him. 

“I can’t find my shoes!” 

“They're in the shoe closet!”

Lev rummages through the shoe closet, but he's sure they're _not there._

“Lev, they’re-” Yaku storms into the room. He pulls the pair out (even if they _seriously_ weren’t there before) and glares at him. “Here. Now, come on! Kuroo said he'd buy us dinner for a week if we finish all the chores before sundown.” 

“But, that's _impossible_!” Lev whines as he ties his laces. 

Yaku gets their coats from the rack and passes one to Lev. “Nothing’s impossible if you try hard enough.”

“Kuroo likes to cook, he made dinner for us last week. How is this any different?”

“He'll be _buying_ dinner. We’re going to make his credit card _suffer_ , and-” he turns away to the door and he mutters something Lev can't hear.

“Yaku?”

“I have to wear a dress if we don't.”

Lev tries his best not to laugh. Kuroo is _awesome._

“So, if you don't want me to lose our bet - and my dignity - then _hurry up._ ”

He chuckles and tries to cover it up with his hand and a cough, but Yaku catches it and kicks his shin. With a pained whine, he gets the keys and his wallet. Yaku double checks (and triple checks) his things, and soon, he's opening the door to the staircase. Weirdly, he isn’t running down like usual. Heck, he isn’t moving at all. Wasn’t he _just_ yelling at Lev to hurry? What’s with the holdup?

Lev peaks over Yaku’s shoulder (something that’s extremely easy), and watches as someone waves up at them from the foot of the stairs 

“Fukunaga?”

He stops waving his hands. “Meeting in room 3,” is all he says. 

Yaku _bristles._ Lev swears he, Fukunaga and Kenma are secretly cat people planning on taking over the world. _Seriously_. 

“But,” Yaku sounds like he's trying to keep his voice steady. It’s not working, “Today’s supposed to be our rest day.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Yaku descends down the stairs.

Fukunaga brings his hand to his ear, imitating a phone. “Commander Nekomata called Kuroo.” He puts both hands up. “All hands on deck. Didn't he tell you earlier?”

Kuroo is _totally awesome._

Yaku follows him, but he doesn’t say anything until they reach the meeting room. He's doing that weird thing with his eyebrows where the right one starts twitching. His hand stalls on the door know for a little bit, but before Lev can say anything about it (he wanted to say _a lot_ of things), Yaku opens the door for them. Kuroo smiles at him when they enter. 

“Shut up.”

“I don’t understand, Yakkun. What did I say?” Kuroo smiles wider and Yaku gets redder. 

He takes the seat farthest from him. “The bet’s off.” 

Kuroo “ _Awww’s_ ” and leans his chin on his left hand. Kenma had always described him as creepy. Sometimes, Lev understands why. “Poor little Yakkun has turned into a coward. _Sad._ ”

Yaku opens his mouth to argue, but Kai clears his throat. 

“We have company,” he says.

Team Yellow Camellia doesn't seem to mind, even if Kuroo eventually starts aiming paper airplanes at Yaku a few minutes later. Maruyama gets hit by a few and his eye starts twitching, but he isn't saying anything. Neither Kuroo or Yaku seem to notice. 

“ _Will he really wear a dress?_ ” The thought makes Lev smile. The image of mature, motherly, caring (aggressive) Yaku in a miniskirt is just _too cute_. Will Kuroo force some makeup on him too? And would he be able to take a few pictures? Kenma has a lot of pretty clothes he refuses to wear, since Kuroo bought them as a gag gift. Maybe he can try some of them on. They’re basically the same size, though Kenma _is_ a little talle-

“What happened? Why are you so quiet?” Yamamoto asks him. 

“Just thinking,” he answers honestly.

“You? Thinking?” Lev tries not to take offense to that. “About what?”

What was he thinking about again?

Oh. Yeah.

Yaku in a dress.

“Something really cute.” 

Inuoka laughs. “Kuroo told you to stop bringing strays into the dorm. We don’t need a mascot.”

“I'm not thinking about a cat, and I haven’t brought any over since last month! I've changed. I'm a new man now.” Lev puffs his chest out, however, he's unsure if Yaku counts as “ _not a cat_.”

Shibayama joins in on the conversation, “Then, what were you thinking about?”

Lev’s getting ready to answer, but the door opens and Ushijima enters with the rest of his team. Commanders Washijo, Nekomata, and Osado follow behind them, quietly chatting. The room goes quiet and the Brave Eagles Squad takes their seats. As always, they're neither too early nor late. Just on time. 

Kenma looks up from his PSP. 

Yellow Camellia stands and salutes at their commander. He dismisses them. Lev and his squad stand as well, but Commander Nekomata waves them off. 

“We’re here to discuss the increase of illegal activity in the area,” Commander Washijo says, straight to the point. “We’ll be talking about our decision on how to resolve the issue.”

He nods his head to Commander Osado, and the man continues on for him.

“We’ve devised a nightly patrol system. There will be four pairs roaming the four sections of the city every night. The pairs have been finalized and aren't interchangeable. We’ve based the groupings on Gift compatibility.” He opens a map and points at the upper portion. “The Eagles will take care of section A.” He points at the right, “The Camellias will take section B.” He points at the left. “The Cats will patrol C.”

_Geography._

Commander Nekoma encircles the bottom part of the map with a marker. “The South,” he says, “will be watched over by all three teams, though on different days. To restate, there will be a team dispersing two pairs, and on the next day, _another_ team will provide the second pair. Understood?”

Lev doesn’t really get it but nods his head anyway.

Commander Washijo nods his head and shuffles through the papers. “Good. Now, as for the pairs, it will be Inuoka and Shibayama.” They high-five. “Semi and Shirabu.” Lev isn't sure who they are, but the dude with the cool colored hair sighs, and the other one with weird bangs flinch. “Maruyama and Himekawa.” Someone from their team snickers. “Kuroo and Kenma.” Kenma hisses, and it's doing nothing but prove his Cat Theory. “Ohira and Tendo-”

He tunes out the rest and stares blankly at Mikawa’s freckles until he hears his name get called. 

“Yaku and Haiba.”

Lev nudges Yaku’s foot. 

“Maybe they thought you needed someone to make up for the height you don't have, Yaku.”

Yaku kicks him under the table. 

\---

“Come on, Yaku. You gotta come out soon!” Lev hopes he sounds encouraging. 

“This is stupid! I’m not leaving the room like this!” He can just imagine how red Yaku must be.

“Be a man!” Taketora goes. They all sing along to the song. Lev’s unsure about where it’s from, but he thinks it’s from Mulan. It’s from Mulan, isn’t it?

With a loud sigh, the door creaks open and Yaku comes out wearing a maid outfit. Kuroo is _so_ gonna regret not being here in person. A picture will never be enough to truly showcase the awesomeness of the situation. (And because Lev is too awed to even bring his phone out and take a picture like Kuroo asked. It shouldn’t be a big problem, though, the dare was for Yaku to wear a dress. He technically didn’t _have_ to see it).

“You look-” Lev starts.

A voice on the intercom interrupts him. They all stiffen at the sound. Yaku hurries back in the room to change. Someone in the corner of his mind tells him those are orders. He can't really make out what the intercom is saying. It's all so static-y. Something about an injury? Assistance? What could that-

Oh.

Kai rushes down to the first floor and the others hurry after. They find the weird looking redhead from Ushijima’s team on the floor with his hand pressing on his forearm, blood slipping through his fingers. The cool-haired guy kneels in front of him, yelling some _colorful_ swear words, but he turns his body to look at them enter. He faces the bleeding guy again and continues yelling. They’re both soaked to the bone. 

“This is your _third_ injury this week, Tendou! You'll be dead by next month if you keep this up. Sometimes I wonder why I even try to take care of your suicidal ass!” The dude with the triangle-eyebrows and thick lips (who’s also really wet. It looks like they went to a water park) pulls him back so Kai can take care of him. 

“What happened?” Kai asks the triangle-dude. 

“He got slashed by an ice shard," the dude replies. Inuoka approaches with a basin of water. “The guy who attacked him had a strength amplifying Gift.”

“One liter?” Kai asks, question pointed to Inuoka. He nods his head. 

With a quirk of Kai’s hands, the water levitates towards the wound. It gently traces the wound before entering entirely. The guy tenses. Kai lifts the rest of the water from the basin and it floats as it cleans the rest of the injury. The bleeding stops and it's free of dirt and dried blood, but it doesn't close up. He pats him on the shoulder. What was his name again? 

“You shouldn’t worry about an infection anymore, Tendou.” Ah, Tendou. “But, you should still get it stitched up at the hospital.”

He turns to talk to the others from Tendou’s team, indirectly telling Lev and the others to go back upstairs to their floor. It’s a little awkward being practically useless in what could’ve been someone’s brush with death, but at least the guy’s alright.

At least.

***

No, Kei isn't at the top of his class. Yes, his teachers tell him to try harder. No, medicine isn't _really_ his passion-

But, he'll be damned if he drops out of med school. 

“Tsukishima,” Komaki taps his shoulder, “Are you passing your essay today?”

“Yeah.”

“May I see?” He leans on his seat. Slowly, Kei passes his papers.

Komaki’s brows furrow. “Why are there only two pages?”

Kei raises his own eyebrow. “Dr. Sakakibara said we only had to make two.”

“No,” Komaki argues, “two at _minimum._ Everyone else has five. Even Hyakuzawa has three.” 

“That’s great. Good for him.”

“You have to take this more seriously-”

“What would you like me to do about it? I could change my whole essay if that would make you happy. Should I go back home and remake it?” he asks sarcastically.

“Stop that. You’re not going to graduate at this rate. You should work harder,” he tells him firmly.

The other students pause at what they're doing. Some are freakishly obvious with their eavesdropping, eyes wide and ogling at them. The rest, on the other hand, try to be more discreet with their heads bowed, but Kei can easily imagine their ears enlarging like the cartoons Yamaguchi and Hinata force him to watch. Kei focuses back on to Komaki and watches him stare back in a disgusting show of disappointment. 

Kei really doesn't like Komaki. 

“Forgive me, Mr. Studious, but I don’t have much time to spare. Unlike you, I have a part-time job to worry about.” Kei takes his essay and turns back to the lecture board. Dr. Sakakibara should be here soon.

“You’re probably not managing your time well enough. How about you-”

“I get it. I’m incompetent. Now, kindly leave me alone. You sound like a mother- Oh. Sorry, I forgot. You don’t have one anymore. Forgive me for my tactlessness.” 

He isn’t sorry at all.

Komaki gasps. He glares for a moment and walks back to his seat.

“You went too far,” Asumushi says beside him. He doesn’t look up from his book, but his words still hold the same impact. He knows the others feel the same way too. He can feel it with the way they look at him. He still isn’t sorry, though.

“I was only speaking my mind.”

“You don’t have to say it like that. Just ask him to stop bugging you.”

Dr. Sakakibara enters. Kei’s a little glad his lecturer arrived on time. Saves him from another argument.

They start today’s lesson without any problem, but Kei can feel his classmates’ annoyance from the other side of the room. He’s getting the impression he’s supposed to feel bad about what he said. It’s almost exactly like high school. Nothing’s changed. He still doesn’t care. 

He doesn’t.

He really doesn’t.

Time goes by too quickly, and soon he's walking to the gas station for his night shift. It’s slow tonight, painfully slow, but at least it gives him some time to study. At some point, he gets a message from his phone, but he’s not in the mood to check it. He’s relieved he looked at today’s forecast and brought an umbrella. It’s pouring when he comes home. It’s been raining a lot these past few days. He doesn’t like it at all.

None of the lights are on in the apartment and he’s sure Yamaguchi has already locked his bedroom door (something that perplexes him; it’s not like Kei’s going to steal his shoes or something while he’s sleeping). He slumps down on his bed without changing out of his work clothes, almost too bothered to take his shoes off too. He closes his eyes, hoping his alarm is set at the right time. 

He wonders if he’ll get to see Yamaguchi in the morning. 

***

 **_> Dont forget to buy shampoo _ ** **_  
_** **_> And make sure its the right brand this time_ **

Pushing his cart to the side, he types out a quick response.

**_< Got it. Be back in 20_ **

He walks to the counter and gets his wallet. His phone vibrates.

 **_> Thnx_ ** **_  
_** **_> Love you <3_ **

**_< Love you too_ **

He pays the cashier and leaves the supermarket with his bags. He almost forgets his change by the counter because of all their texting. He opens the car door and drives back, trying his best to ignore his phone in the passenger’s seat. The ride back home is silent, aside from its persistent beeping. At a red light, he opens it again.

 **_> Come back safe_ ** ****  
**_> Dont want you dying on me_ ** ****  
**_> That was a bad joke sorry_ ** ****  
**_> Come back soon_ ** ****  
**_> But dont drive too fast_ ** **_  
_** ******_> (´ ε ` )♡ _**

**_< Almost there_ **

“Daichi? That you?” He hears from inside.e parks their car at the front and tries to bring all the bags over in one go. Groceries in hand, he tries to knock on the door. He can’t pull his keys out.

“Yeah! Open the door please!”

He hears Koushi stumble on the other side, but he opens it for him with a smile, as if nothing happened. He takes one of the bags out of his hands and they bring it to the kitchen counter. After a peck on Daichi’s cheek, Koushi goes back to preparing dinner. He takes a soy sauce bottle out of the shopping bag.

“Want some help?” Daichi asks.

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“I’d never.”

Koushi giggles and his hair bounces along with his chuckles, and his eyes twinkle along with his laughter, and his skin is glowing, and-

He's fallen _way_ too hard. 

Daichi clears his throat. “You alright? Sounded like you fell when you opened the door.”

Koushi laughs again. “Yeah. I hurt my foot this morning. Makes me lose my footing sometimes.”

“Do you want to get it checked?”

“It’s fine. There’s no need.” Koushi kisses him on the lips. “C’mon, stop frowning.”

Daichi hadn’t noticed he’d been frowning.

“Are you sure? I want to make sure you’re okay. An appointment won't hurt.”

“Honest.” Koushi smiles. “I’m okay.”

Koushi lowers the stove’s heat and puts the lid on the pot. He turns to Daichi and kisses him again, much longer than before. 

“Dinner’s got to simmer for a few more minutes. How about we do something to pass the time?”

Daichi hesitates for a second. “But, you’re injured.”

“It’s nothing. I promise.” Koushi stands on the tips of his toes and leans into Daichi’s ear. “How about I prove it to you in the bedroom?”

Pushing him backward, he doesn’t give Daichi a chance to reply. His mouth’s firmly planted onto his, nibbling and biting on his bottom lip. He tilts his head for a better angle and brings a hand out to pull at his hair. A small whine leaves Koushi’s mouth.

Daichi tries his best to enjoy the kiss, but he can’t help but notice Koushi’s limp.

\---

“I’m sorry! I didn’t want you to get hurt!”

“So, you decided to lie to me!?” Daichi yells, still gripping Koushi’s phone. 

“Dai, it was for your own good. I didn’t want you getting involved.” Koushi begs and grabs Daichi’s other arm. He shrugs it off. 

“I _am_ involved, whether you want it or not. I’m your husband, Koushi. You have to tell me these things!”

He shakes his head and cradles Daichi’s in his hands. He’s got no choice but to stare back into his eyes. They’re such a pretty shade of brown. They almost seem to shine under the lamplight, or maybe those are tears. Daichi isn’t so sure anymore. 

“It’s too dangerous, Dai.”

Koushi drops his hands but Daichi doesn’t stop staring. His eyes don’t glimmer anymore. They’re just plain teary. 

“Who was that on the phone, Sugawara?” He doesn't want to use his first name. “Who’s threatening you?”

“I don't know.”

“Suga, tell me who it is.” He holds onto his shoulders, waiting for his reply.

“I don’t-” he chokes, “I don’t know.”

Daichi can’t help but believe him.

“What happened? What did you do?” He asks, softer. He rubs his thumb on Koushi’s collar.

His gaze bores into Daichi. His eyes are flooding, tears threatening to fall. He hesitates but speaks nonetheless. “It’s because of this case I'm on.” Daichi opens his mouth to speak but Koushi carries on. “I dropped it as soon as I got the threats. I wouldn’t do anything to endanger you. They’re just making sure I keep quiet.”

“Who are _‘they_?”'

“I told you, Dai. I don’t know.”

His gaze doesn’t falter, and Daichi doesn’t look away. “At least let me help you.”

Koushi shakes his head. 

“It’s too dangerous, Daichi.” The tears finally fall. 

Daichi listens as the rain outside pounds against their bedroom window.

***

“You need to understand that by joining our team, you will undergo extensive training. It isn't easy to be a part of the Gift Management Division, though I admire your interest.” 

Wakatoshi doesn't understand the circumstances that brought Tendou and Semi to take this boy to the dorm, but he seems to have the potential to be a member of the team. Commander Washijo didn’t seem happy about the suddenness of his arrival, but given that his Gift works well for them, he had no objections about it yesterday during their meeting. Goshiki Tsutomu could be very valuable to them, and it would be good for Kawanishi to have a fellow trainee with him. 

“I will do my best, sir!” he shouts. 

Tendou laughs and pats his back with his uninjured arm. His wound is healing quicker than it normally should. Wakatoshi figures its Kai's doing. “You're burning up, little guy. Maybe you should cool off in the rain.”

“Ah! I'm sorry, Mr. Tendou! I'll try to calm myself down!” Goshiki shouts back again. 

“Fuck. He's all sparkly-eyes about you, Tendou. Make it stop. It's disgusting.” Semi joins them all on the dining table. He stirs his tea. 

“Of course he is!” Tendou laughs. “I'm his savior after all!”

Semi snorts and continues to stir. “Who saved you two out of the rain again? Was it Taichi? Reon-? Oh, wait. It was me.”

“Yes, Semi-Semi. You're my knight in shining armor. Make sure you keep your next Sunday free for when ya have to save me from the _evil dragon_ ,” Tendou replies. 

“It seems like you two have settled your differences,” Wakatoshi tells them. 

Their usual banter was good for lifting the team's spirits and lighting up the mood, or so the others had said, but their ongoing disagreement was doing nothing but lowering the team morale and changing the team dynamic. Reon had begun to plan an intervention for the two of them. He had set a talk for them and had suggested that the whole team gets involved. Yamagata said he would provide the cupcakes for them. Wakatoshi still isn't sure what the cupcakes were for. He may never know now. 

“Uh, yeah. He's annoying, but he's not _that_ annoying.” Semi sips his tea. 

Tendou laughs again and ruffles Goshiki’s hair. Goshiki moves to retie it. His hair appears too long. It may be a problem during missions. He'll suggest cutting it when the conversation allows. “Think of it as the calm before the storm. Enjoy while it lasts, Waka-Waka.”

Wakatoshi frowns. “But, if there's a storm, you have to prepare emergency supplies and get ready in case of evacuation.”

Goshiki nods. It's good that he has a sense of preparation. 

“Forget about it, Waka. It's nothing.”

Wakatoshi hums. “And what will the plan be for your mother’s birthday?”

“First, we have to buy a shit ton of streamers.” Tendou starts. He spends the next three minutes talking about generic party plans for nine year olds, including clowns, rainbow balloons, and party bags.it's very time consuming, but Wakatoshi asked. It would be rude to tell him to stop now. 

“He's just playing around. His mom _hates_ parties,” Semi whispers to Goshiki, but it's loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. He should learn to be more discreet. 

Tendou places a hand on his chest. “I'm hurt, Semi-Semi. I take my party planning to heart. But-” He shakes his head. “-it's not shocking you aren't taking me seriously.”

Goshiki turns to him, effectively distracting him from what Semi yells back at Tendou. “Are the two of them dating?”

“They aren't.” Goshiki raises his eyebrows. “Tendou has described their relationship as ‘brotherly.’”

Wakatoshi goes back to listening to their small argument, but they're both focused on him and Goshiki. 

“What are ya scowling for, Waka-Waka?” Tendou asks, smiling. 

Wakatoshi relaxes his face. “I wasn't aware I was scowling, Tendou.”

“You shouldn't be embarrassed to say that you're jealous, Ushijima,” Semi says, “We can help you get out there if you're interested.”

“I have no problem leaving the building.”

“No-” Tendou laughs. “-Semi means we'll help you break your single status.”

“I don't understand.”

Semi laughs too. “If you want to date someone, we're willing to be your wingmen.”

“But I currently have no interest in romantic relationships.”

Tendou laughs harder. Semi stops laughing and frowns at him. “As expected of you, miracle boy. Don't worry. We were just messin’ with ya.”

Wakatoshi nods. “Alright.”

***

_Chairman of the Gift Development Department (GDD) Confirms Power Weakening Outbreak_

_By Akaashi Keiji, Owl Express News_ _  
__On January 14, 2019, 7:55 AM_

_Commander Washijo has officially confirmed the sudden decrease of power emissions by technology-based users last Friday evening. According to data retrieved from the Information Bureau (IB), all gadget related powers throughout the city have gradually stopped working. During his talk, he said the government is working on finding the source of the disruption. The investigation on its possible cause had started last Wednesday, prior to the talk. Researchers have started seeking a solution to the problem but they currently haven't released any new discoveries._

_A new hotline for tech users has been issued. Counseling has been offered to those who have been affected and the city government is now working on relieving the citizens' worry-_

\---

"Thanks for saying yes to the date, Akaashi!" Bokuto exclaims. 

The waiter arrives with a pen and notepad. Keiji reads through the menu, only faintly aware of the pasta he orders. After Bokuto tells the waiter he’ll have some steak, and they both decide on some red wine, he goes back to looking at Bokuto's hair. He wonders why he styles it like that. Does he think it's cool? Or? 

“You’re my boss's son, Bokuto. I need to be in your good graces if I ever want a promotion,” he says with a smile.

Bokuto laughs, then abruptly stops. He looks at him with wide eyes. “You’re joking, right?” 

Keiji chuckles. Time for some damage control. "Of course, Bokuto." He pushes his hair away from his face. He should cut it soon. "I wouldn’t go on a date with someone to get further in life. I’d prefer it if my achievements came from hard work." 

The waiter arrives with two glasses and their drink. With a smile and a nod of thanks, Bokuto looks at him again. 

“Well, you’re definitely achieving, since you got to score me,” he teases.

Keiji takes a sip from his wine and puts the glass down. He’d do anything to chug hard liquor right now. “That’s awfully kind for you to say, Bokuto.”

“Don’t cut yourself short, though." He laughs. "When I told my dad we were going on a date, he started planning our wedding. He probs loves you more than he loves me.”

He looks at his fingers. He probably shouldn't fiddle with them. He stops. “You told your father?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. He said as long as it doesn’t get in the way of work, it's A-okay.”

The waiter arrives with their food, and with another pair of _thank you_ ’s, they’re alone again. Keiji tries to take a bite out of his food, but he’d already lost his appetite. Still, even if it's _extremely_ underseasoned, he should at least _try_ to stomach it; it would be rude otherwise. He sighs. He checks Bokuto, and thankfully he hadn't noticed. He looks like he's focused on enjoying his meal. Keiji sighs again. He should’ve just ordered those fancy-sounding vegetables and rice.

“You like your food?” Bokuto asks. 

Keiji smiles back. “I do.” 

\---

"I can't believe you actually did it."

Keiji stares into the mirror and thinks about how offensive brushing your teeth while taking a call is. Hmm. The cons beat the pros so he'll put it off for later. He can't wash his face without getting his phone wet either. Huh. He feels a little stupid standing in the bathroom now that he can't really do much. He'd already dried his hair. (It was his mistake for getting caught up in the rain). So, what should he do now? Would it be better to just go back into the bedroom? 

"I did, Konoha, so please keep your end of the bargain," he says into his phone. He _really_ wants to go to sleep. Hopefully, Konoha hears the tiredness in his voice. 

"Yes." He laughs. Clearly, he hadn't noticed. "You're drunk endeavors are safe with me."

He doesn't want to think about that. "And the pictures?" 

"I deleted them." 

"Good." He rubs his eyes. He notices he's still wearing his contacts. He puts the call on speaker and takes them off. ( _Finally_ , a reason to be in here.)

"You know I wouldn't spread that shit about you, right?" No. "Nobody'd believe me, so there'd be no point."

"Oh," he says. 

Konoha laughs at him. "How was the date, though?" 

"I've had worse."

He sighs. "Bokuto likes you, like, the guy's _basically_ obsessed. He really wanted to impress you. There's got to be more to it than " _I've had worse."_ "

Keiji pulls his hair down. It goes past his eyebrows. He should definitely cut it soon. "We can talk about it tomorrow if you still want to, but I would like to go to sleep soon."

"You never change." Konoha sighs again. "Goodnight, Akaashi." 

"Goodnight."

He can finally brush his teeth now. 

***

Asahi doesn't mind his job as a bouncer. It pays well enough, and it definitely beats his old shop clerk job, since he scared the customers too much. (Well, he still scares the customers as a bouncer, but that's kind of the point now? That was the point, right? He isn't making Hanamaki and Matsukawa go out of business, is he? Oh, _God._ He _was_ , wasn't he? Maybe he should just quit-) 

Two cats fight across the street despite the pouring rain. _That's_ one of the few cons of the job; rain. Sure, the roof extends to where he's standing so he isn't directly hit, but that doesn't stop stray droplets from hitting his trousers and water from seeping into his polished (Thanks to Yuu) shoes. Dealing with people isn't that scary since all they do is show him their ID’s, but it isn't fun, especially when you're soaking wet. 

One of the few things make up for it is seeing familiar faces. Having friends and regulars come in is a perk that keeps him from quitting. (He _was_ about to quit after an incident with a mini lawn mower and an impossible amount of shaving cream, but thankfully(?) Hanamaki changed his mind by ensuring it would _never_ happen again). So, it lightens his mood to see Iwaizumi come by (even if he looks a little tired). 

“Long time no see, Asahi.”

“It has. How have you been, Sergeant? How's the station been treating you lately?” Iwaizumi’s eye twitches at the mention of work. Asahi wonders why.

“Please, just call me Iwaizumi. I get enough people calling me that.” He sighs and leans his umbrella on his shoulder. 

“Anything interesting happen at the job?”

“Not much - Hey, are Takahiro and Issei working tonight?” His eyes move to the door before quickly going back to Asahi. Huh. 

“As usual. They have to keep the new guys in check. The energetic one has broken _way_ too many glasses and the tall one keeps glaring at the costumers.” Asahi smiles. Suga says it makes him look scary but Yuu says he looks cute. He isn't sure who he should believe. 

“Thanks. Have a great night,” he replies, smiling back. 

“You too.” Iwaizumi quickly walks out of the rain and into the bar. He stumbles a bit by the door. He almost forgets to close his umbrella. 

Asahi wonders what's up with him. 

***

He hears his annoying ringtone go off from his bedside table, paired with the buzz of his cellphone. He turns away and drags a pillow to cover his head. He’s too tired to deal with this. Whoever’s calling can wait until the sun comes up. Eventually, the ringing stops and he goes back to mindless slumber. Sadly, not even a minute passes and it goes off again. He grumbles, but he doesn’t make a move to decline it.

It stops. Five seconds later, it starts ringing again.

And again two more times. 

Sighing, he answers the call. It better be important.

“Kindaichi.” He hears from his phone, followed by the sound of someone distantly pounding on his door. “Can I come in. Please?”

It takes a while, but he realizes it’s Akira on the line. He opens his eyes and sits on his bed.

“What?” He murmurs into the call.

“Please open up. I can’t sleep in my room.”

He doesn’t really understand what he’s talking about, but if it means going back to sleep sooner, he’s willing to do it.

“‘Kay.”

Tripping in the hallway, he opens his apartment door. After giving his eyes a moment to prepare, he turns the lights on. Seeing Akira wakes him up a little more.

“What happened?” He asks, trying to hide the hoarseness of his voice. “You’re drenched. You’re making puddles.”

Tendrils of deep purple envelope Akira, from his waist up to his shoulders. They wrap around him, almost acting like a barrier. The sprouts drip near the bottom, reminding Yuutarou of the candles they used to play with when they were younger. The tendrils pulse subtly, twitching even if Akira stays inanimate.

He doesn’t know how to interpret it. It's not the usual blue mist that circles him when he’s tired, nor is it like the crimson fumes around his limbs when he’s angry. Akira is feeling a new emotion that Yuutarou can’t decipher. He can’t tell what it is and it deeply disturbs him. What happened? Did someone hurt him? Is it the effects of some form of mental illness? Is Akira okay? Fuck, is _he_ okay? Is he just seeing things? Is this actually real? Why can’t he-

Chill. 

It’s probably nothing.

He just woke up. He’s still tired. His Gift is just being annoying again. Nothing’s wrong with either of them.

Chill. 

Akira ignores his question. “Do you have the blanket I left last week?”

Yuutarou gestures vaguely in the direction of his room. “It’s over there. Somewhere.”

Akira hums like he’s thinking things over. 

“Can I sleep on your couch tonight?”

“Sure.”

He doesn't really understand why he'd want to sleep here of all places, especially if it's a lumpy couch over his _extremely_ fluffy bed in his own apartment, but whatever. He's not awake enough to stress about it. Yuutarou turns and begins walking back to his room. 

Wait.

He faces Akira again, and eyes his wet clothes and hair. It takes a lot of effort, but he manages not to stare at how the vines have slowly lost their shape, gradually dissipating into the smoke that normally surrounds Akira.

“Go take a shower. I’ll get you a change of clothes and a towel.”

With a quiet “ _Thanks,_ ” he walks to the bathroom. Exchanges like these aren’t new to them, they’ve been best friends for years after all. He doesn’t even question what's so wrong about his own apartment, though he’s likely just too tired to pay it any mind.

Maybe Akira’s starting to rub off on him.

He forages through his closet for something Akira could wear. He may be a couple of inches taller, but he can probably fit in some of his pajamas. Probably. It’s too cold to give him a normal t-shirt or a tank top, and he knows Akira hates wearing shorts. He can just fold the sleeves and the pajama bottoms if it's too long. (But this is Akira he’s talking about. He’s definitely too lazy to.) He probably wouldn’t even care, honestly.

He hears the shower turn off and hurriedly looks for a clean towel. Akira’s bathing speed had always been incredible. 

Closing his eyes and passing his clothes and towel, Akira tosses him another quick “ _Thanks,"_ again and closes the door. He stands by the bathroom for a while, but he quickly turns around when he realizes he's been counting the seconds. He tries shuffling back to his room, unsure if he should wait for Akira to come out. 

In the end, he ends up making two cups of tea. 

“You didn't have to do that. You're already doing me a lot of favors,” he says once they're both sitting near the kitchen island, rubbing his hair with the towel.

“I don't mind. What are friends for, you know?”

“That's fair, I guess,” he murmurs. The purple comes growing back, albeit a lighter shade than before. It swerves and twists around his arm as he moves towards his mug. It's lost most of its form, thinner and more translucent. 

“What made you look like you tried to interrupt some poor kid's pool party? What's up?” Yuutarou watches his eyelids lower a fraction. 

“I couldn't sleep. I tried to take a walk to tire myself out, but it started raining,” he answers smoothly. 

“No, I meant - What's _wrong_ ?” Akira doesn't answer. He never has trouble falling asleep. He's _Akira_. Yuutarou flails his arms around, doing a weird rendition of jazz hands. “You've got this weird _thing_ around you tonight.”

Akira stares at him. 

He stares a little longer. 

“I'm off the Goshiki case now.”

Yuutarou stares back, confused. 

“That's good?”

“No, it’s not!” Akira shouts. He gets up from his seat. He tosses the towel aside. Some tea spills out of the mug and he glares daggers into Yuutarou. “I _found_ him, Kindaichi! He was _right there_. Right there in front of me! Fate spoon-fed that to me, and now I’m off the case. This would’ve been my biggest achievement _ever_. I’ll never have this opportunity again. It’s just so _annoying-_ ”

A deep red gas surfaces from Akira’s feet, not going up towards the rest of his body but going outwards. Yuutarou tries to diffuse the situation and the surreality of what’s happening by imagining Akira as a human smoke machine, but his plan backfires once the gas sublimes into spikes. It’s almost as if he’s standing in the middle of a field of red thorns. They grow and grow and grow and they don’t stop growing, even after reaching Akira’s knees.

“Kunimi, listen to me. Calm down. Kunimi?” He stands along with him, trying his best to seem as unthreatening as possible. He takes the mug from him, noticing that _hot_ tea spilled all over his hand. He puts it away to the coffee table and rests his hands firmly on Akira’s shoulders. They rise and fall with each breath - each pant - he makes. The eye contact it enforces scares Akira, but it eventually brings him back to Earth.

The spikes lose their edge and they individually retract back to the ground. The red loses its color and dulls. In a moment’s time, all that’s left around them is a thinning, silvery-gray fog. Akira’s face goes back to his normal neutrality.

“Remember to breathe, okay? Start from the beginning.”

***

"No one needs this much hair product." 

"Futakuchi, don't make fun of the dead. If the guy wanted to use twelve bottles of conditioner, then he used twelve bottles of conditioner," Kawatabi says. 

"We don't _know_ if he's dead. For all we know, he's in Barbados sipping a piña colada," Kenji replies. 

"He's been missing for days, his Instagram would be filled by now."

Kenji looks through the drawers and cabinets. He has to find _somet_ _hing_ or else Moniwa's going to make that _I'm-disappointed-but-I'll-try-not-to-show-it_ face, but there's _nothing_ there. Medical supplies, a toothbrush, soap (that's what bath salt is right?), mothballs (whatever that is), toilet cleaner, and bug spray. There's nothing out of the ordinary (as long as you ignore the amount of face cream he finds). He's pretty sure they're never gonna find the guy. 

"It's clear."

Kawatabi, who's been sitting on the bathtub and doing absolutely nothing (aside from watching the storm outside the window), nods his head. "About time."

Kenji refuses the urge to pull his hair. "It would've been faster if you'd helped." Stay calm. Shooting the bastard won't get him a raise. 

"It seemed like you had it under control."

"At least _try_ to act like you're doing your job. People like you are the reason everyone hates the police," he says through gritted teeth. 

"The motherfucker's been gone for more than a week, I'd bet you a three-course meal he's dead by now." Kawatabi stands and walks to the door, but before he gets to the knob, it opens for him. 

"We found a note, sir!" Kogenagawa - he needs a shorter name - shouts. 

"Where is it?" Kenji walks out with him, Kawatabi high on his trail.

Aone passes it with some uncertainty (or Kenji thinks it's uncertainty. It's hard to tell with the guy). 

"Matsushima found it on his dresser," Sakunami says. He takes the note. 

_Dear reader,_

_I've gone into hiding for the time being - I don't wish to be found so don't look for me - and I officially resign from my duties as a city councilor. I can't say when I'll be back out in the public eye, but I hope everyone can handle things with me gone. If my friends have found this, then trust me. I know what I'm doing. If this is in the hands of the police force, then don't file me as missing. This letter may sound suspicious but I'm seriously okay. Thanks for caring tho!!! <3 <3 <3 _

_On a serious note: My disappearance isn't a prank. I've decided this had to be done for the sake of my safety. Reader, be careful._

_Peace out and don't worry about me! I'm alive and well! ☆⌒(≧▽° )_

_Sincerely,_  
 _Oikawa Tooru_

Kenji furrows his brows and frowns. He looks up and gives Kawatabi a look. 

"I want dinner from that new fancy restaurant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changing the perspective??? Yes.  
> Changing the tone??? Yes.  
> Changing the mood??? Yes.  
> Why? _Yes._
> 
> BTW this is more than a month late because this school year is freakin' Wild™. Hopefully I can post the next chapter before December but tbh I doubt that'll happen.
> 
> This chapter sounds really weird n stuff too cuz I wrote this inbetween exams and school events. We have exams at the end of every month and big events monthly too (which completely ruins your social life cuz I've been forced to cancel all the meetups I planned with my friends) so I hope you can be patient with me.
> 
> I guess it isn't really a big deal tho cuz this whole thing is a mess lmao.
> 
> Still, I hope you liked (is that still possible at this point lol) this chapter and I hope you carry on reading. Thanks for the comments and kudos n stuff! They mean a lot.
> 
> On a side note:  
> Goshiki with a tiny manbun.
> 
> Edit: I've edited a few things in chapters 2 and 3 but if you still find any errors, then feel free to tell me lol. Any form of criticism is great.


	4. Effects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes with its own set of effects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** signifies change of character perspective  
> \--- signifies scene change  
> Italics are flashbacks, dreams, visions, etc.
> 
> Thank you for the comments, kudos and bookmarks! I made a weird playlist for the fic n here's the link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6C6VaC5DGOJZOAQohzDHxS?si=XjqpZC_wSpWqNQ1eTDxuQQ  
> Hope you "enjoy" the latest chapter. 
> 
> I edited the tags cuz the length of it started hurting my eyes tbh.

Akira wakes up to his phone vibrating and the smell of coffee. 

The coffee wasn’t that weird. They used to stay over at each other’s places at least once a week, and Kindaichi’s the early riser between the two of them, so Akira doesn’t have to make coffee often. It’s just a little awkward since they haven’t been talking much lately. And because he yelled at him last night. 

His phone vibrates again. He decides to ignore it.

Akira sits at the stool behind Kindaichi. “You never told me about your date.”

Kindaichi startles but offers him an awkward smile. His hair looks weird when it's down. He didn’t have time to look at it when they were drinking tea because of his ‘ _breakdown_ ’. Dumbly enough, he misses it. “We didn’t really hit it off. She didn’t like me and I didn’t like her.”

“Your date was a girl?” Akira tiredly smiles. He’s surprised he had the energy to do that before noon.

“Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck and removes the coffee maker. “Mom put me up to it. She still thinks she can cure my ‘gayness.’”

He makes a small huff. (He sure has a lot of energy today). “She should just accept that it’s incurable. You’re so gay, it’s basically a curse.”

Kindaichi raises a brow. “You sure about that, Mr. I-don’t-care-if-I-die-alone?”

“Definitely.”

Kindaichi passes him a mug. Deja vu. 

“Sometimes, I wonder why we shouldn’t just move in together. It would save us a lot of money, don’t you think?” Kindaichi says after a while.

“Pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to handle seeing your face all the time,” Akira tries to joke. 

Kindaichi smiles a little. “But, there’s no real reason why we _shouldn’t_ do it, right?”

“I guess.” Akira pauses. He raises a brow. “What’s this about?”

“Nothing much.” Kindaichi makes that weird half-smile, half-frown thing he does when he’s stressed. He pauses a little longer than usual. It gives what he says an unwanted impact. “Dad’s just mad that I'm not pampering them. And I realized, if I save the money I would normally spend on the apartment, then I could use it for him and mom. Maybe even for Jiro’s college funds.”

Kindaichi's never liked his family. They've never liked him either. Akira doesn't understand what changed. A small part of him urges him to read Kindaichi to know why, but he'll probably pass out on the spot if he did. 

“Who are you and what have you done with Kindaichi?” Akira attempts to lighten the suddenly heavy mood. 

Kindaichi drops the smile. “I’m serious about this, Kunimi.”

Kindaichi and his family have never been on good terms.

Akira gives in. He sighs. “I don’t really care if we move in together, but your parents never cared about you. You never cared about them. What happened?” He stops to breathe for a moment. “Have they done something to you again?”

“It’s not that. We haven’t seen each other in months.” Kindaichi frowns deeper.

“Then, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong." Kindaichi stares straight at Kunimi. "If anything’s messed up, then it’s how you were acting last night.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He feels his voice growing louder, his tone harsher. The bubbling anger from the night before resurfaces. He wasn't pushing Kindaichi for answers. What's with _his_ attitude?

Different emotions flash through Kindaichi’s eyes. Worry. Shock. Frustration. Honestly, Kunimi’s unsure about Kindaichi’s feelings. He can’t tell what they are for sure; he doesn’t have Kindaichi’s abilities. He only has his stupid ‘mind-reading’.

“You were so angry last night. I haven’t seen you like that since high school, Akira,” he replies quietly.

He hates hearing his first name, but he especially hates hearing it from Kindaichi’s voice. And any mention of their high school days were taboo. Kindaichi knows this. Akira _knows_ he knows. 

In a split moment of weakness, he hears what Kindaichi’s thinking. 

“ _I don’t want to deal with this right now_.” 

He realizes this ‘weakness’ has been happening a lot lately.

With reinstated anger - and what he assumes is hurt - Akira takes that as his cue to leave. If he wants him to go, then he will. He opens the door with a ferocity he never knew he had (or maybe he’d been denying himself this rage for so long) and doesn’t even bother to slam it shut. 

He trudges into his apartment with an emotion he hopes isn’t guilt. He flops onto his bed, praying that the world will give him a reason to skip work. He’s not in the mood to solve cases or deal with anyone today. Who’s he kidding? He’s never in the mood. 

Once more, his phone vibrates. He looks at the caller ID and watches Sergeant Iwaizumi’s name flash. He answers the call.

“Good morning, Kunimi. I hope I didn’t wake you. It’s about one of your cases,” The sergeant says, straight to the point. Kunimi doesn’t remember the last time they talked about things on the phone that didn’t involve work. He’s not sure they ever have.

“It’s alright, sir. Please continue.” He wonders if he sounds genuine on the other end. He probably doesn’t. It's not like Sarge sounds eager to talk to him either.

“I’m sorry to say this, especially after what I told you the other night, but I need you to go back on the Goshiki case. You haven't finished the paperwork yet, have you? Haven't filed him as deceased?”

He lets that sink in for a moment. 

He takes a deep breath.

“Not yet, sir. I'll work on it right away.”

“Thank you for understanding. I won’t be coming in to the station today. Kindly inform the others,” he says calmly.

“Yes, sir.” And with that, the sergeant ends the call.

He hears his neighbour's alarm go off through the wall. He finally notices the birds chirping outside. There's too much sunlight shining past his curtains to go back to sleep.

Kunimi sighs. He’s tired.

He knows storming out the room isn’t like him. It’s completely out of character. But he also knows people change. So, maybe that was just him turning into a different person. It might as well be. Or it could’ve been anything, really. Maybe he was just sleep-deprived. Maybe he didn’t like Kindaichi’s new sofa. Maybe it was the effect of not finishing his coffee.

Ah.

That’s probably it.

\---

“Please, Officer Kunimi, there’s gotta be something you can do.” The guy has a stupid looking blonde undercut, and Akira decides he’s the definition of ‘Fuckboy’, but he still tries to keep up the polite act around him. Just because Iwaizumi isn’t here doesn’t mean he can get away with snapping at a civilian.

“We’re doing the best we can. Begging won’t make us work any faster,” Akira replies slowly.

Dejected, Mr. Fuckboy walks out of the station. It catches the attention of a lot of the non-officers in the room, and a big number of them give Akira a disgusted look. They shouldn’t blame him for it. He’s just following protocol (and Iwaizumi’s instructions).

"I can't believe Sarge is making you go back to the case after what happened," Watari says. He turns to him and eyes the styrofoam cups littering Watari’s desk. Akira wonders how many he’s finished today alone. It probably doesn’t beat his own record, Akira thinks.

"Me neither," he mumbles. 

Watari gives him a once-over. "Are you okay? You're not looking so good."

"I'm a tired bitch. 'Not good' is my default." 

Watari hums and starts tapping his fingers on his desk. He's usually alright with his workmates' jitters (and they're all obnoxiously jittery), but he's honestly way more tired than usual. It's hard to pay attention to his work with all the noise and movement going around. He needs a cup of coffee. 

"Why's your face like that?" Kogenagawa asks him when he reaches the break room. 

"It's always like this," Akira replies. He doesn't understand how the coffee machine in the station works, but he notices there's no instant coffee left and he's not in a position to buy a cup outside. Maybe he can ask someone to buy one for him. Wait - he didn't bring enough money with him. Shit, he really needs some form of caffeine in his body ASAP. God, he should just invent his own caffeine patch so he won't have to deal with this kind of fuckery ever again. 

Kogenagawa laughs. "No, you usually look normal-tired! You seem extra-tired right now." 

God, Akira hates seeing happy people before his coffee. Those little (or in Kogenagawa's case, big) balls of sunshine have no place in his pre-caffeine routine. 

"And you're making it even wor-" Before Akira can finish his insult, Kogenagawa's tiny partner comes and tugs Kogenagawa's sleeve. 

"Sakunami?" 

"C'mon. We haven't finished the case yet. Futakuchi might break something again if we don't finish the paperwork soon," he warns. Sakunami turns to Akira and gives him a look that says-

" _I'm sorry about him_." 

Fuck, this is the last thing he needs right now. He just needs to wait a couple more seconds and the coffee will be done and he won't have to force his eyelids to stay open and-

" _Kunimi's getting pretty pale. Should I try to help him? I don't think he'll get mad at me if I try to carry him to a medic, but maybe I should ask first? What would Sakunami do? Oh wait. He's right beside me. I should ask him what to-_ " 

" _Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. He looks like he's about to faint. Did Kogenagawa do that? He's not_ that _destructive though. Still, I should probably give him some water. That might help-_ " 

Their voices hit him like a harsh flash of light. The lapse of nausea makes him drop his barriers completely and-

" _I don't want to finish this today_." 

" _I wonder what I'll have for dinner tonight. I hope it isn't fish again_."

" _Ugh. This job is killing me. My back feels like shit. No joke._ " 

" _Buy groceries. Buy groceries. Buy groceries_."

" _Where'd my social life go? I need a girlfriend._ "

" _Why are our computers so slow?! I need to finish this by Monday or else I'm done for!_ "

" _Is it a call for help? God! Oikawa you'll be the death of me-_ " 

He passes out. 

***

“Thanks for doing this, Coach Nishinoya. It really means a lot to us after what happened.” Futamata says with a big smile.

Yuu doesn’t know anything about 'what happened', but he feels like he should. Hmm. No big deal. He can ask someone later.

"It's all good," he replies, "You're a great team. A practice match with your school's honestly a great chance for us to learn a couple new tricks!" 

Futamata laughs. "You're the best, Coach." 

Ah, his heart literally swells at the praise.

"You'll make my team jealous!" Yuu grins back. 

"But, it's true." He laughs again and plays with his hair. "I'll get back to the others. We gotta get ready for the game."

The kid (he's already in his third year of university, but he's still a student so Yuu's pretty sure he has the right to call him that) walks out the teacher's lounge with a bigger bounce in his step than when he walked in. How cute. It reminds Yuu of his days with Tanaka and the Boys™. (Oooh!!! They should meet up soon. Ryuu's been going out for drinks more often. He should join him.) 

"I don't understand how you still have the energy to be so-" Ikejiri looks away and scrunches his face, "-lively."

Chaya snorts. "It's 'cause he only coaches. He doesn't have to make lesson plans or grade papers like the rest of us." He pulls out the stacks of essays he's been working on for a while.

"How lucky it is to be a part of the privileged few." Haga shakes his head and laughs. "Why do we even let you in here? This place is reserved for instructors and professors, dude."

"Hey! I teach PE! My students love me!" Yuu laughs with him.

"You're a teacher?" Ikejiri raises his eyebrows jokingly. "I thought you were a student. You're so short, after all."

Yuu laughs and lunges at him. "I'm gonna get you for tha-" 

“You should go now, Noya. We don’t want the visiting team to wait,” Daichi says from his seat two tables away.

“Damn. You’re right. Thanks, Dai! Watch us later if you’ve got the time!” He brings his things and turns to the others. “I’ll see you guys when I see you!” The others wave goodbye at him and he fast-walks out of the teacher’s lounge. 

When he goes out into the gym and instructs his players to do their warmups, he can’t help but focus on the other team. They’re laughing and joking and smiling like any college team, but there’s something seriously wrong about them. It’s like they’re missing something. Yuu’s curiosity builds up, but he pushes it down. He should pay more attention to his players.

Just before Yuu’s team wins the first set with a seven point lead, someone enters their gym. Futamata rushes him to get his stretches over with so he can join in before the second set starts. (Yuu gives him an extra five minutes).

"Dude! You're so late! I'm tired of tossing to Bobata!" Futamata shouts.

"Yeah, Terushima. Hurry up, since Futa's _so tired_ of tossing to me." Bobata says sarcastically.

Terushima smiles and jumps, shaking his hands. "Sorry, bro. Just got back from the station." 

Their libero turns to the conversation, the rest of the team looks like they're listening in on it too. "And what did they say?" 

"Still nothing." The others nod (sadly), but Terushima claps his hands. "Come on guys! We don't need our ace to win! I'm all we need!" He winks.

The starters, and even some of the subs, laugh and push him around. In the end, their morale lifts, but they still lose with a score of 25-21. At least they did better than the last set. They play a couple more matches, but the other team only snatch two sets. (Yuu's pretty sure they've done better though. They managed to get pretty far into the last tournament.)

They say their thanks to the other team, but Yuu still can't get rid of the curiosity. He spots Daichi watching from sidelines and figures he probably knows about it, since he keeps more track of the university volleyball scene than he does. (Daichi keeps pretending he's so uninterested, but Yuu knows he played until he finished college. He's still trying to convince Daichi to coach with him, but he's getting there. Sorta.)

"Daichi!" Yuu runs up to him. “You're here again!”

He raises a brow. "I wanted to see how the team’s doing. And I needed to make sure the gym's not on fire yet."

"That was _one_ time." Yuu laughs.

Daichi glares. "One time is more than enough." He turns back to the other team boarding their bus.

"What's up with them?" 

“How do you _not_ know?” Daichi gives him one of his ‘dad’ looks.

Yuu laughs. “I just don’t.”

“One of their players has been missing for more than a week. It's literally in the news.” Daichi sighs. 

_Damn_... That makes sense. "They must have it rough."

Daichi still stares at the bus, even if they're driving out of campus. "Yeah. He's their ace too."

Yuu tries to imagine how he'd deal with losing one of his most valuable players, and his mind goes blank. He wonders how his team would handle it, and it's hard to see them being as optimistic as the other team. Was the guy close to anyone? Dated anyone? It would be hella sad if the guy was already dead, after all the effort his friends put into looking for him. Suga would probably destroy half the town if Daichi went missing, even after their fight.

"Is Suga or the others working on the case?" Daichi puts his attention back on Yuu.

"Used to. He had to drop it. The police are handling it now," he mumbles.

"Are you two doing okay?"

"Yeah." He sighs. "But, I'm still worried, you know?"

***

"Kunimi! You're awake!"

" _Akira, I don't want to see you hurt again._ "

There's a rhythmic beeping at his side and a dull pain at the back of his hand. The room's white and it's hurting his eyes. The harsh smell of alcohol hits him before he can wonder about how he got here. He must be in the station's clinic. Why couldn't they bring him straight home?

He turns to Kindaichi's place on another bed. "What happened to you?" Akira asks him.

Kindaichi chuckles. "My gift went overboard for a minute. I panicked and tripped. Ended up hitting my head against my desk." He points at the pale bandage above his eyebrow. 

" _Don't worry so much about me, Akira_."

"Hope it doesn't scar." The sun is about to set. "How long was I out for?" 

"A couple hours. Watari says you should get yourself checked at the hospital later, just to make sure you don't have anything serious going on."

Akira hums. "Too much work. I'll just go home and sleep. Sleep is the cure to everything." 

Kindaichi laughs. "I hope you don't get tuberculosis then."

"At least I wouldn't have to go to the station anymore."

"Yeah, but then we'd miss you." He stares at Akira with a teasing look.

"You'll survive. It's not like-"

" _I need to take care of you more, Akira._ "

"Stop that," he mumbles.

He raises a brow. "What are you talking about, Kunimi?"

"Stop calling me Akira. We talked about this."

"I haven't been-" 

Akira cuts in, "It's all in your head. Its loud and fucking clear."

"Kunimi, you're being weird again." He frowns.

"Shut up. I'm not being weird."

" _You were doing so well, Akira. I thought you were getting better. I have to talk to the therapist agai-_ "

"I can hear you, Kindaichi. You have to stop." 

"No." Kindaichi scowls. "You need to get over the past. I'm over it. Sarge is over it. Hell, fucking Kageyama is over it. I'm done helping you run away!"

"I haven't been running away. Stop it. You're acting like a dick."

Kindaichi throws his blanket off and sits up. He stumbles a little - he must've hit his head hard - but he outstretches his arm to support himself. "What the hell is up with you today?! Are you on fucking meth or some shit?"

"Nothing's up."

"You-" Kindaichi takes a deep breath. "Fine. I'm calling the nurse. We're going home."

Akira snarls. "Don't talk to me like that. I'm not a child."

"Well, you're acting like one."

"Fuck you."

"Kunimi." Kindaichi sighs. "You're tired. Im tired. We'll get you home and I'll ask Sarge to grant us a couple days worth of sick leave. Just rest up." 

" _You're spiraling again_."

Akira isn't sure if those were his thoughts or Kindaichi's. Maybe they were both thinking it. Who knew?

"I don't need sick leave." 

" _You do_ ," someone thinks.

Kindaichi frowns again. "You can't work like this, Akira."

"I can." 

Not once in Akira's life had he wanted to go to work or do anything past what was necessary. Kindaichi looks at him with shock, frustration, worry, maybe even confusion. Not unlike the look he gave him earlier today. The not-so-distant history repeats itself. Was that a bad thing?

"I'm perfectly fine," Akira says.

" _I'll prove it, Yuutarou_ ," he thinks.

***

“It’s like you’re soulmates with Shirabu!” Tendou says from the sofa.

Fucking great.

Kenjirou stiffens, and he sees Goshiki do the same. He’s just met the guy and now he’ll be teased about him for weeks. The poor kid actually looks like he’s about to combust. _Kenjirou_ feels like he’s about to combust. Or turn the room into a giant ice cube. 

He’s going to kill Tendou for this. 

“You’re right.” Ohira laughs good-naturedly. “Shirabu’s Gift is ice while Goshiki’s is fire. They’re opposites.”

Kawanishi gasps in his ‘I’m being ironic’ way. “Dibs on best man.” He smirks. 

If it wasn’t for Semi’s nagging, then he wouldn’t have to deal with this damn “Welcome Party” at all. He’s definitely getting him back for this too. Without even trying to hide his agitation, Kenjirou taps the couch’s arm with vigor. 

Reon chuckles and continues. “I can take care of the reception. I know a great place. It’s a grand hall and you can probably fill it with two hundred people. You can even leave all the decorating to me. I’d love to do it.”

“Please, end my suffer-” Kenjirou gets interrupted by a voice from across the room. 

“I can handle the food and flowers. Get ready to see a shit ton of petunias.” Semi says from the kitchen door. Kenjirou was hoping he couldn’t hear them. Couldn’t he have left them alone?

Fine. Forget just killing Tendou, he’s killing everyone. And then himself afterwards. Maybe Goshiki too (if he’s feeling generous). 

“Come one, Kenjirou~,” Tendou elongates the last syllable, waving his injured (Does he have any ounce of self-preservation?) arm. He laughs. “Get that stick outta your booty! We have to celebrate Goshiki’s acceptance to the team! Hey! Don’t make that face.”

Before Kenjirou can say anything about it (and he had a lot to say), Goshiki clears his throat and asks, “Is it really alright for me to be here? I don’t have to sign any paperwork or anything?”

Tendou just laughs harder. “Nah. The government doesn’t really give a shit, as long as we save the world or whatever. And the department can’t handle data to save its life.” He lets out more laughter. “As long as you get scouted by someone who’s already on the team or by Commander Midget himself, and you train a fucking shit ton, you’re basically one of us.” 

He takes another second to eye Kenjirou. “Unless you’re our dear Shiraboob, of course, and you get into the team by kissing ass and working hard.”

The _bastard_. 

“You sure love talking, don’t you?” Semi says (thankfully, even if Kenjirou hates to say it), holding a platter of sandwiches and a bowl of popcorn. “Is Yamagata back yet?”

“Nope,” Tendou replies, popping the ‘p.’ “He’s still getting Waka-waka.”

Reon hums. “We can start without them. They won’t mind.”

Tendou pulls out the beer. “Yeah! Let’s get this party started!”

Reon chuckles and Semi takes a bottle, Kawanishi following after him. Goshiki, bless his poor soul, looks confused as hell. He probably heard about the “No drinking past 9 PM” rule. (Which was made for a good reason. He still has nightmares about the time they played Strip Poker. A part of Kenjirou wants to save him from what's about to happen). Tendou jostles Kenjirou, bottle in hand, smirking at him like a fucking snake. 

Kenjirou takes it hesitantly, and Tendou grins wider. Some little voice in his head is telling him he spiked it with rat poison for shits and giggles, and he isn’t sure if he wants to risk his life over some alcohol. (Who’s he kidding? He definitely would). Goshiki sees him and eyes his drink with even more uncertainty. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Kenjirou! It’s not like I spiked it or anything. It’s just beer, I swear,” he says, like he read his mind or something. He turns away and walks up to Semi, wrapping his uninjured arm around his waist. Semi smiles at him with a raised brow, but other than that, he doesn’t look that annoyed by it. Calmly, he pushes his arm away, but Tendou just snuggles up closer. They aren’t even drunk, and they’re already making fools of themselv-

“I really don’t have to sign anything?” Goshiki asks.

The others are all trying to connect Semi's phone to the bluetooth speaker. They're too far away. There’s no one near enough to answer for him. Damn. Okay. He can probably pretend he didn’t hear him. That works. 

Goshiki taps his thigh. “Am I really not supposed to sign anything, Mr. Shirabu?” He asks again.

Kenjirou sighs. “No.”

Goshiki looks away and frowns. “But, what if I get injured? Killed? Where does my income come from?” He looks back at Kenjirou and leans in. He whispers, “This _is_ legal, right?”

“No. We’re obviously a criminal organization.”

Goshiki blanches. Kenjirou wants to say something else to scare the kid, but Ushijima and Yamagata come in before he can do anything else.

“Shirabu, refrain from antagonizing Goshiki. The aim of this get-together is to congratulate him for his acceptance to the team.” He turns to Goshiki. “We are legal. Shirabu was not telling the truth.”

“Ah. Thank you.” Kenjirou hears him mumble back. Ushijima probably missed it since he walked away to Tendou. (Probably to scold him for bringing alcohol. Kenjirou’s a little thankful he didn’t take a sip out of his beer bottle yet. At least he doesn’t have to listen to an “Ushijima Scolding Session” tonight).

Kenjirou watches the way Goshiki jumps his leg and fiddles with his sleeves. Damn his urge to be polite. “If you're so scared, why’d you join?” 

Goshiki hums and doesn’t answer for a few seconds. Kenjirou’s about to give up on his attempt at conversation, but Goshiki opens his mouth before he can walk away to the kitchen (where it’s empty and quiet). “Because it’s my best bet at staying alive.”

Kenjirou feels a little stupid for forgetting Goshiki arrived on their doorstep at one in the morning and borderline unconscious, but he plays it off. “Are you the kid of some mafia boss? You can’t just be a stray Tendou found in an alley.”

He takes heavy gulps of his beer, practically downing half in one go. “I was a pretty normal college student before someone decided they wanted me dead. I had to go into hiding for a while but I ran out of food and water. I didn’t have enough money left on me to buy some more, so I tried to go back to my boarding house to get some stuff I thought I could sell, but they found me and chased me down,” He says with a straight face. "I managed to get away, but I collapsed. That's about the time he found me."

Kenjirou isn’t sure if he’s into really dark humor like Kawanishi, or if the guy is in actual danger (and to an extent, a danger to the team). 

After a few seconds thinking it over, Kenjirou indulges him. “Have you tried telling the police?” 

“Like a normal person?” He wants to add.

Goshiki smiles ruefully. “Yeah. I mean, I tried. I even went up to the head of this detective squad - I think he was a sergeant? - but he just said he wasn’t in the mood for any pranks. I kept coming back, you know? But he wouldn’t listen to what I had to say.”

Kenjirou squints at him. Or glares. He doesn’t know the difference, but he's been told he glares a lot. “So, you just gave up?”

“I guess so. They wouldn’t give me a chance.” Goshiki stares carefully at his beer.

This seems too suspicious to be truth, but Kenjirou knows there’s security footage of a gunman chasing Goshiki down. It’s the main reason the team let him in. He’s pretty sure he knows who Goshiki’s talking about too, but it doesn’t seem like him at all - even if all they’ve had were passing conversations, and brief exchanges of data and police files. 

“Who-" _were you talking about_ , he wants to ask. "Why are they trying to kill you?”

Goshiki looks him in the eye with a shaky smile. “I don’t know.”

It only gets Kenjirou more curious, and it doesn’t help with the blooming anxiety that's settling in, but Semi and Tendou sit next to them and ruin any chance for him to ask anything else. 

“I see that you’re a little wound up, Kenjirou,” Tendou teases. He didn’t notice he’d been lowering the temperature. “Semi-semi, if you may?”

With a sigh, Semi heats the room up a little. Tendou laughs. “If only you could melt his heart too, Semi-semi.”

Kenjirou feels himself blush, and Semi smiles with a raised brow again. He flicks a bit of ice off of Kenjirou’s shoulder. Kenjirou decides it’s the right time to look away from them.

“Guys, can you stop that?” Yamagata asks, with Reon close behind him. “It’s cold enough already.”

They argue and Kenjirou finally gets his opportunity to run away to the kitchen, but the newfound peace doesn't stop his questions about Goshiki from lingering in the back of his head.

***

_Gift Facilitators Receive Praise From Media_

_By Akaashi Keiji, Owl Express News_

_On January 16, 2019, 7:36 AM_

_Gift facilitators headed by the Gift Development Department (GDD) have received praise from civilians and various government leaders on social media platforms like Twitter and Facebook for their exemplary performance against the sudden spike of gift-related crimes. A total of 32 accomplished missions have been attained by the Gift Management Division (GMD) within the last week alone, and the information has boomed in social media._

_Twitter user @NarKazu posted a video showing the city’s Gift facilitators fighting golems on a busy street, and it now boasts a view count of over 3.7 million. The hashtag #HeroesOfTheCentury is circulating throughout Twitter with a variety of posts about everyone’s gratitude to the department._

_“We’re only doing what we think is right for the community. If it means risking tooth and nail fighting an electric Gift-user, or singeing our hair because of a Gift induced fire, then we’ll do it. We won’t stop until our people can rest without worry.”_

_A response tweet from Captain Kuroo Tetsurou, leader of the Stray Cats Squad._

_There remains a stigma against the public showcasing of Gifts, but the GMD’s efforts are slowly breaking it down. Discrimination still runs rampant, but they’re trying to stop it, according to Maruyama Kazuki, a Gift facilitator from the Yellow Cameli-_

\---

“You don’t have to accompany me, Bokuto,” Keiji tells him. “It will just be a short interview.”

He smiles widely. “It’s not like I have anything to do, Akaashi! We can even have lunch afterwards.”

Bokuto is adamant about paying for their meals together, and Keiji doesn’t want to pass a chance at a free lunch, so he relents. Bokuto plays pop songs on the ride there, but Keiji doesn’t really mind either. It beats the normal silence he usually deals with. Half an hour passes with Bokuto singing wildly and awkwardly dancing within the confines of the car, which makes Keiji repeatedly try to calm him down. Sadly, it falls on deaf (tone-deaf, specifically) ears.

“Your article about Kurobro and his guys is totally gonna backfire on us!” He laughs. It’s loud and grating, but even his laugh beats the silence too. At least Keiji doesn't have to listen to Kuroo's. “He’s never gonna shut up about it. I can already imagine Kenma’s face. Guy’s gotta be angry at us!”

“Your father approved of the article, so I wrote it.”

Keiji can make out Bokuto staring at him with a smile from the corner of his eye. Keiji’s driving, so he doesn’t look back at him. Despite that, Bokuto’s face still manages to take up a big portion of his peripheral vision when he leans closer. “I know. It still sucks though. Kuroo won’t stop bragging about it, probably.”

Keiji parks his car and turns the engine off. “We’ll deal with it when the time arrives, Boku-”

“Hey! Akaashi?” Bokuto interrupts him quickly. “Where _are_ we?” 

Keiji looks up at the 10-meter high structure with indifference, then at the empty lots and barren road. “At an abandoned building.”

“Akaashi-” Bokuto laughs, but it’s more nervous now. “I wasn't annoying you too much, was I? You’re not here to kill me, are you? ”

He’d lose his job if he tried. Keiji doesn’t want to lose his job. “Of course not, Bokuto. This is where we’ll be having the interview.”

Bokuto waits for him to say something else, probably for the punchline, but Keiji wasn’t joking. He seems to realize that he's serious about this. “But, doesn’t this smell fishy to you?” Bokuto tries to smile, but it looks like he’s having trouble.

“I do what I must for my job. My interviewee wanted a private place for the meet-up. This is the place he suggested.” 

Keiji opens his car door and Bokuto follows, albeit hesitantly. Keiji understands his fear, but he has long learned how to suppress his own. He hopes “ _NarKazu_ ” won’t mind Bokuto being here. Keiji also understands the need for privacy. Probably too much.

“Yeah, I get that, but whenever someone says private, they usually mean their house or whatever. Not a horror movie set.” Bokuto plays with his messenger bag. Keiji hopes he gets rid of that habit. It’s a bit unprofessional.

“He mentioned housemates. He said this is the best place for the interview.”

Bokuto opens the door to the building. According to “ _NarKazu_ ,” he’s friends with whoever owns the land, so it doesn’t count as trespassing. Keiji wonders if he should mention that to Bokuto. He figures it isn’t Bokuto’s main concern, so he keeps his mouth shut. Keiji walks inside. Bokuto doesn’t. 

“I’ve got a bad feeling ‘bout this, Akaashi,” Bokuto says shakily, still not stepping into the building. “Do you even know who you’re interviewing?”

Akaashi’s partially ashamed of the answer. “I only know his username on Twitter. He didn’t want to disclose his name.”

Bokuto laughs again, even more nervous this time. “Yeah. Let’s go, ‘kaashi. This isn't safe.”

Akaashi wants to say that he and “ _NarKazu_ ” have been emailing each other all night, so even if something illegal were about to happen, the police would already have their prime suspect. He took screenshots to ensure that. He told him such when they were chatting online. He's in safe hands.

He turns around to face him. "You don't have to worry, Bokuto. I assure you that-"

He's only allowed a second to watch Bokuto's eyes widen before everything goes dark.

***

"That's not how you make Rum and Coke!" Tobio hisses. 

"Why do I have to learn this!? Can’t you make the boring drinks!?" Hinata shouts in reply. 

Tobio glares at him, and then at the weird… thing Hinata called a 'Coke and Rum.' It looks disgusting. He glares back at Hinata. "And what if I'm in the bathroom? What if I get a fever and I won't be there to make them? Failing to make a simple drink might affect the bar's reputation." 

Hinata repeatedly clenches and unclenches his fists. It makes him look like a nine-year-old that's trying to dance to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. "Then I'll ask Mr. Hanamaki or Mr. Matsukawa to do it. They’ll never leave me alone after what happened last week.”

Tobio shudders.

He still can’t understand how Hinata can break so many shot glasses.

“And what if they're taking someone else's order? What if _they_ also went to the bathroom.”

Hinata pauses his interpretation of Tobio’s favorite nursery rhyme and makes a tight line with his lips. He tilts his head a little to the right. Wait. Left? The other right? Where is he tilting his head to? He thinks it over. 

Um. 

He tilts his head to Tobio’s right. 

There it is. 

"Then I'll ask them to wait?" Hinata finally says. 

Silently, he fumes. (He's been trying to manage his anger better, but he's probably being obvious about it. Tsukishima, Hinata and Yamaguchi all say he's very clear about his frustration. He's still working on it). "But, what if-" 

"What if you both shut up?" Matsukawa interrupts from a table. Tobio used to wonder why the cook wouldn't stay in the kitchen, but he eventually decided to ignore it since Matsukawa was technically his boss too. Narita, their assistant cook, says it's so he can make sure Hanamaki won't flirt with the customers. 

"Yes, sir." They say at the same time. Yamaguchi taught him a word for that. He tries to remember it. 

He’ll remember it, eventually.

Hanamaki walks over from the other side of the bar, washcloth still in hand. Hinata suggested hiring someone to replace him as a waiter, or at least hire another one, but Matsukawa said they liked to be minimal and hands-on with their business. He doesn't really understand why, but it's none of their business. 

" _I made a pun_ ," he realizes. " _I should probably share it with Hinata later_."

"It can't be that bad, though." Hanamaki sits on one of the stools and eyes the drink. He doesn't sound sure about his words, but he still downs it. Wiping his lips, he makes a face. "It's actually pretty go- No. It's not good. I'm going to the bathroom." 

He gets up and runs. Hopefully, he'll be alright. 

“What's in that thing?” Matsukawa asks, confusion making his eyebrows furrow.

“What Kageyama told me to put in. Cola, Rum, Vinegar,” Hinata says.

Tobio decides it only makes sense to smack Hinata. “I said lime juice, dumbass.”

Hinata blushes. “But, they're both acidic, so I figured it’d be-”

“I’ll stop you right there,” Matsukawa says, “Hinata, just make the drinks you know how to make. Kageyama, teach him when we’re _not_ on business hours.”

“Yes, sir,” they say in unison. That’s the word. Unison-

“A Scotch on the Rocks, please.”

Sergeant Iwaizumi moves to sit on the stool beside Matsukawa. He looks as tired as he did yesterday, but Tobio can't blame him for it. Everyone was tired nowadays. It was like a trend.

Matsukawa turns to Tobio after a long side-glance at the sergeant. “Easy on the booze, Kageyama. Don’t want our dear Iwa-chan getting liver failure before he turns forty.”

“Yes, sir.” Tobio hurries to make the drink.

Sergeant Iwaizumi turns around to look at the booths. “Where’s Makki?” He asks. 

“In the bathroom,” Matsukawa replies, “Pretty sure he’ll be in there for a while.”

Sergeant Iwaizumi squints back in confusion. 

Matsukawa smirks. “It’s the effect of idiocy.”

Hinata clears his throat. “So, maybe we should call Tsukishima again today- And I know what you’re going to say. He’s busy. But the guy should take a break. It’s been ages since we’ve seen Yamaguchi too.”

“Tsukishima's going to ignore you again. Just call Yamaguchi over,” Tobio advises. He looks at the drink he’s making. It's probably for the better that the Sergeant doesn't drink too much since it's still pretty early in the night, but did Matsukawa mean lower the alcohol quantity and put more ice in? Should he keep the same amount of ice? Should he add something else? It’s literally just whiskey and ice, how does he “ _Go easy on the booze?_ ”

“Well,” Hinata says, “They’re like a package. If I convince Tsukki to come then Yamaguchi will definitely come along too. He probably won’t go if Tsukishima isn’t there.” Hinata shrugs and wipes a glass.

Wait.

“Stop that! You can’t hold any glasses anymore. You’ve broken too many.” Tobio places the finished drink on the counter and takes the glass away from Hinata. He doesn't want a repeat of last week.

“But, I’m a bartender. I hold glasses for a living.” Hinata frowns at him.

“Then, I guess you have to find a different job.”

Hinata crosses his arms. "Hey! I'm not the one who made everything levitate yesterday!"

"I told you! I wasn't feeling well! Controlling my Gift isn't easy, dumbass!" Tobio bristles. 

Hanamaki approaches from the bathroom and coughs loudly. He wraps his arm around Sergeant Iwaizumi. “Not in front of the customers, boys,” he tells them calmly.

“Yes, sir,” they grumble.

Tobio glares at Hinata and Hinata glares back. They can talk about it after work.

***

Keiji wakes up, heart pounding, gagged and tied to a chair. There's a throbbing pain at the back of his head which he assumes comes from getting knocked out. He turns his head as far as he possibly can and sees a glimpse of Bokuto's back behind him, still unconscious. He tries to take a calming breath to calm himself down. At least he's alive.

Keiji waits through an agonizing set of minutes before Bokuto jolts awake with a muffled scream. It’s slightly relieving to know he’s conscious. Bokuto can probably cut their restraints if he pulls his claws out. Keiji will have to calm him down for him to do that, but he can't do anything with the gag on. Bokuto continues thrashing around behind him and it only gets worse once someone opens the door. 

"It's good to know yer awake. I'm just here to let ya know that I ain't here to kill ya." A man with a gun and hooded eyes walks in front of Keiji, completely ignoring Bokuto, who's still screaming. He tries to stare back at the man with as little expression as he can.

It's better if his attention is on him instead of Bokuto. Keiji might even be able to use his Gift. They still have hope. But-

" _But, this wouldn't have happened if you weren't so desperate for articles_."

" _Bokuto's death would be blood on your hands_."

" _This was the dumbest decisio-_ "

Keiji pushes the thoughts away. He needs to focus.

"Still, I'm not gonna have any other choice but to shoot ya if you don't cooperate," he adds. "Don't want ya forgettin' that."

Harshly, he removes Keiji's gag. He crouches in front of him and smiles. Keiji's heart pounds faster, but he simply raises a brow in return. The man doesn't have to know he's scared. "This is only a warnin' for ya. No need to worry. We just got a couple things we need ya to do and a couple things we wantcha to stop. Yer a-" 

Bokuto screams louder and bounces his chair. The man gets up and walks out of Keiji’s line of sight. Keiji twists his head but he can only turn it so far.

 _No_.

He has to see the gun to control it, he can't control it if he can't see it. He needs to see it to use his Gift. He's _useless_ if he can't see it. This is the worst possible scenario. Bokuto might get-

He hears him pull the trigger.

_Bang!_

“Stop.” Keiji pushes the words out, all semblance of calm leaves. “Don’t hurt him. Please.” 

Bokuto whimpers behind him. Keiji feels like he’s about to cry, but he holds it in. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, pretty boy. I didn’t shoot ‘im.” The man walks back to where Keiji can see him. He cups Keiji's cheek. He leans too close for comfort and he shivers. It's close enough that he can feel his breath on his face. Keiji hopes he stays there.

“What do you want?” He keeps his tone flat and professional. Now that he has a clearer grasp on the situation, Keiji isn’t sure if he has the strength to take the gun away from him. It’s too heavy. He has to think of something else if he wants them to escape.

The man chuckles and replies lightheartedly, “I want two things. Yer a writer, ain’t ya? First, ya gotta stop kissing the GDD’s asses with yer news. Second, I’ve got a flash drive with articles I need ya to post. It’s got dates and everythin’ so you’ll know when to put it up.”

He waves the small device in his face, and Keiji takes another moment to breathe. “I can’t put it on the official website if my boss doesn’t agree to it. It would have to go through our editors too. I don’t have the power to put just anything into the Owl Express News.” 

“Ya ain’t fooling anyone. I know you’ve got yer own blog. Post it there.” 

“And if I refuse?” He stalls. He has to think of a way out of this. There has to be a way. He has to do somethi-

The man pulls him up with his collar. Keiji’s still stuck to the chair, but it doesn’t do anything to help with his position. “Ya don’t have a choice.”

"I thi-" Abruptly, Keiji feels the sharpness of Bokuto's claws slowly cut through the ropes that bind him. The shock makes him stutter, but he hopes the man doesn't notice. "-think I do."

"I mean, if ya choose to die instead, then I'm willin' to be the one to kill ya." 

"What if I hand it over to the police?" Bokuto's cutting it with enough accuracy that Keiji's sure he's already cut his own. He has less problems to worry about now.

The man sneers at him. "Are ya sure they'll do somethin' 'bout it?"

There's not much left of the rope, so if he wants to act, he has to do it now. Keiji figures he owes it to Bokuto.

Without replying to his question, he kicks the man below the belt just as Bokuto breaks him free from the rope. He kicks the man again, and Bokuto backs him up by hitting his head with the chair. The legs break and he falls to the floor, unconscious. Before he can do anything else, Keiji grabs Bokuto by the wrist and pulls him out the door. They're not too far from the entrance and they sprint towards the main door.

Suddenly, they hear a shout from their left, and they spot a new man with another gun. He shoots and Keiji wills the bullet to change course, but it's only enough to stop its momentum. He stumbles on his feet, and Bokuto has to stop him from falling. The new man startles and tries to shoot again, but with the last remnants of his strength and with the help of the adrenaline flowing through his body, Keiji forces the gun out of his grasp and it flies behind him. The man twists his middle absurdly, looking for the gun, and the distraction gives Bokuto the chance to run up to him and bring him down. 

With a renowned headache, Keiji grabs their stuff by the door and runs out the main entrance, Bokuto swiftly following after him. He thanks the universe that his car is still where they parked it. He hurriedly turns the engine on and they speed out towards the city. Belatedly, Keiji realizes they forgot to put their seatbelts on and that they've largely surpassed the speed limit. 

Bokuto removes his gag and withdraws his claws, but he doesn't say a word until they enter the more urban part of town. 

"We have to go to the police," He says sternly. It's the most serious Keiji has ever heard him.

Listening to his voice makes the reality of everything clearer. It all happened so fast, but he remembers the hand on his cheek and the gunshots ringing in his ear as though it's still happening. He realizes his hands are still shaking and the urge to cry intensifies. He tries to get rid of the lump in his throat.

"Are you injured, Bokuto?" He asks.

" _You didn't have the decency to ask him earlier? We've been driving for ten minutes. He might be dying, and you're drowning in self-pity_." He berates himself in his head.

"No," He answers, void of emotion and so unlike how Keiji knows him. "He only shot the floor. Don't worry about me. Are you okay? You didn't overuse your Gift? Guns are heavy. You must be tired." 

"I can manage, Bokuto."

It's already dark out, and the digital clock tells him it's already a quarter past eleven in the evening. Hunger and dehydration are probably why Keiji was so weak earlier. Maybe if he had eaten breakfast, he would've had more strength and he could've done more with his Gift. Bokuto had done too much to save him.

" _You were so useless_ ," He reminds himself. 

The quiet of the car makes the guilt all the more obvious. Now that the threat of death isn't looming over them, Keiji let's the shame wash over him in waves as they drive back. 

" _You were being stupid. You endangered his life._ " He thinks in a mantra.

"We have to go to the police," Bokuto says once more, voice still lacking the life it always had. 

Keiji feels the grip on his collar a second time and he hears the words, " _Are ya sure they'll do somethin' 'bout it?_ " 

His hands shake harder.

"We're telling Kuroo." Keiji whispers with a firmness he doesn't believe he has. 

"But, we should go to the police station and file a repor-"

The gunshots play on loop in Keiji's head. His ears are still ringing. Bokuto's muffled screams echo again and again and Keiji's starting to feel light-headed. He grips the steering wheel to ground himself. 

" _Don’t worry ‘bout it, pretty boy_ ," the voice repeats. 

He tunes out the rest of Bokuto's words. He speeds past a red light and he keeps driving faster, foot pressing hard on the gas. " _Ya don’t have a choice._ "

There's no one out anymore. No more cars or people. It's so quiet and the stillness is killing him. " _I'm willin' to be the one to kill-_ " 

He feels a hand against his forearm and he startles. He feels his whole body shake and he tears up. 

"Keiji?"

"We're going to Kuroo," he repeats with finality.

Keiji slows the car down and takes a deep breath. Bokuto doesn't say anything after that.

***

"Thank you for doing this for us, Mr. Yamaguchi. Kozume thought this was important and I'm pretty sure he's never wrong." Shibayama, a trainee from Kuroo's squad, tells him.

Tadashi chuckles a little. He doesn't want to continue the case, but the kid is cute. "No worries. Send my regards to him and Kuroo. Are they doing okay?" 

"They're a little swamped," Inuoka replies with an awkward smile. "A couple reporters got caught up in some trouble yesterday and they're planning a mission for it. You know them, I think. They seemed pretty close to the team."

"Bokuto and Akaashi? What happened? Did they get hurt?" Tadashi frowns. 

Shibayama hurries to cool the situation. "They're okay. No injuries. But, we can't disclose any more information just yet."

He hopes it's nothing too serious. "Ah, I guess I'll leave you to it. Sorry for taking up your time. Take care of yourselves, you're still young." 

They both laugh and nod farewell. Tadashi waits until they leave the room before he turns to the computer and the new drive of recordings Kenma found. He frowns again. He really hoped these recordings were nothing.

He opens the file and puts his headphones on. He clicks on the first audio track, dated a little over a week ago. Unsurprisingly, it's the same coded language. Tadashi can hear the pounding of rain loudly from the headphones. He's familiar with one of the voices, but the second is new and oddly similar to the other one from last time, though it sounds more bored. A third, emptier sounding voice joins into the conversation halfway. Now that he's listening to it properly, Tadashi realizes they're probably talking about something illegal. He replays the first track and starts typing out what he can. He takes note of the heavy tint of an accent.

" _Did you catch him?_ " The familiar voice says.

The second one pants. " _I lost him. I'm telling you, the kid runs too fast._ " He catches his breath. " _Even the bastard couldn't catch him last time. What makes you think I could?_ "

" _We gotta get rid of him fast. Boss might kill us instead_."

" _Can't we give up already? The premonition might not even be legit. You heard what the guy said. Not all the visions are real_."

" _You owe it to him though. Just think about all the things Boss has done for you. We can't give up - and do you really think that vision's something you can make up? Seemed pretty real._ " 

" _Whatever. We've got to corner him together next time. We need a plan or something_."

" _If we have a next time_."

" _That's not the attitude I want from you, 4-OA._ " The third voice interrupts. Tadashi writes the name down. He couldn't translate it, so it must've been an alias. Names were one of the few things he couldn't translate.

" _Forgive me, 1-KS. I'll try to be more positive_."

The new voice replies, tone still monotone, " _I don't want your optimism. Just do what you can to accomplish your responsibilities_."

" _Copy, sir._ "

" _The same goes for you, 11-MO. Giving up is not an option. Don't think about that, you will achieve nothing. Remember that I'm connected on all lines. Your words will not remain unnoticed from me._ "

" _Yes, 1-KS_ ," 11-MO answers, but it lacks the respect that 4-OA has. It sounds more tired, like he's just too lazy to fight back.

" _I would also like you to talk to that gift facilitator again. We need to know what the future has in store for us._ "

11-MO sighs. " _Yes, 1-KS_ ," he says again.

" _Good. You're dismissed. Return to base, 11-MA, and rest up. We'll be discussing our plans tomorrow_."

Tadashi listens to the last few seconds of rainfall before the audio ends. 

Shakily, he types out the notes. He gets some clay from his desk and takes a deep breath.

He opens a few others, and the dialogue isn't as revealing as the first one, just small snippets and vague arguments over the "kid's" location. He puts in what he can and adds the new code names he hears.

_01-12-19_

  * _Failed murder/kidnapping by 4-OA and 11-MO. Might have an accomplice in the Gift Management Division._



_01-13-19_

  * _4-OA and 11-MO can't locate their victim. 9-MA and 10-SR scout the city for him._
  * _5-GH is tasked by 1-KS to threaten someone._



_01-14-19_

  * _15-AM has a scheduled meet-up with an officer in the police force. Intel gathering. 2-OR accompanies him._
  * _5-GH continues his threats._



Tadashi opens the two recordings for the 15th of January. It mentions an incoming interview set for the 16th and a machine they switched on. They discuss the machine for a good five minutes. It's cryptic enough that he has close to no clue on what it's about. Still, he includes it in his notes.

Finally, he gets to the recordings labelled _01-16-19_ , _01-16-19(1)_ and _01-16-19(2)_. Tadashi looks at the date in the corner of his computer. Yesterday.

He leans a little farther on his chair and listens carefully. He plays with the clay.

" _He's here_." Tadashi is pretty sure it's 9-MA speaking. " _But he brought someone else with him. Looks familiar. I think he's the son of their boss._ "

" _Did you take him too? Is he alive?_ " 1-KS asks. 9-MA replies in the affirmative. " _Good. We can use him as leverage. Are they together?_ "

" _Yes, sir. They're still unconscious but 10-SR thinks they'll be up by tonight_." 

" _Was he able to copy 2-KS? Fear is our friend here_."

" _He did, sir_."

" _Very well. Keep us informed_."

" _Yes, sir_." 

There's a swift cackle of static before the recording ends. Tadashi plays the next one. He squeezes his clay tighter.

" _They're awake_." He notices his lack of accent; It's probably 10-SR. " _9-MA is talking to them now_."

He wonders what that faraway sound is, and he realizes it's muffled screaming. Tadashi bites his cheek. 

" _I'd prefer it if no one got too hurt. That son could be our new trump card. I'm sure we'd benefit if we left him unharmed_ ," 1-KS says.

" _He knows_."

" _Is 9-MA not on the line?_ " He asks.

" _He turned it off so he could focus_."

1-SK makes a noise Tadashi doesn't understand the meaning of. Disgust? Confusion? " _Just make sure he doesn't kill either of th_ -" 

A gunshot. The screams stop.

Tadashi's heart races. 

" _I'm sorry, sir. I'll check on it righ-_ "

1-SK stops him before he can continue. 

" _There's no need. I trust 9-MA. He isn't a petty killer._ "

" _Yes, sir._ " 10-SR doesn't say anything for a while, static filling in the gaps for the audio. " _I still think I should check up on 9-MA._ "

" _If you deem it necessary, then I will not sto-_ " Distant thumps and the sound of wood splintering interrupt him. With a more urgent tone, 1-KS says, " _Get your gun. Shoot if you have to_."

Tadashi listens to rustling metal and the click of a cocking hammer. There are thundering footsteps coming towards 10-SR. " _Stop!_ " He shouts. Tadashi cringes at the voice.

He fires and it's hundred times more deafening than the first shot, so blaring that it makes Tadashi's ears ring.

There's the clang of steel hitting the ground and the steps get even louder. Suddenly, it goes quiet, almost as if the line got cut.

" _10-SR? Are you there? Do you copy?_ " 1-KS says with forced neutrality.

No reply.

" _10-SR?_ " He tries again. " _9-MA?_ "

Silence.

The track ends.

Hesitantly, Tadashi plays the final recording.

" _If the information we received from the police force is accurate, then the Stray Cats Squad will most likely investigate the building. We can assume the vision is accurate. It was probably for the best that those two had escaped_ ," 1-KS says, impassive. " _2-OR and 15-AM, you will accompany me two days from now. 5-GH, you will be the one to make the call. 4-OA will give you the signal._ "

A chorus of " _Yes, sir!_ " and " _Copy_ " echo throughout the recording. 

" _10-SR and 09-MA, your injuries are far worse than we anticipated. Our investigation of room 208 in Ohgi South will resume once you're both fully healed. You will be given at least a week's rest_ ," I-KS continues. " _That would be all for today. I hope our next mission will be a success_." 

No one argues back. The track stops.

A part of Tadashi really wished Kenma was wrong.

He puts the clay to the side. Hurriedly, he types out the rest of his notes. He puts it in an email for Kuroo and stares at it for a second. A minute. He hits backspace and erases a few words. 

_01-16-19_

  * _9-MA and 10-SR captured two individuals (might be Bokuto Koutarou and Akaashi Keiji)._
  * _09-MA attempted communication with the individuals. They fight back. 9-MA and 10-SR end up incapacitated. The pair escaped their captives._
  * _All the members are briefed by 1-KS on the Stray Cats Squad's mission to investigate the building. They may try to sabotage it._



' _If they really were the ones captured, Bokuto might be able to sketch out what they look like,_ ' he adds in the email. ' _They sound like they have something big planned too._ ' 

Tadashi presses send. He removes his headphones and puts them back in his drawer. He takes out his phone and calls Kuroo.

He answers after a few rings. "Have you seen my email?" He asks without preamble.

" _What? Oh. I just received it_ ," Kuroo replies with confusion. Tadashi waits as he reads it. Kuroo doesn't say anything after a few minutes, even if Tadashi's sure he's finished. Finally, after moments of agonizing silence, he says with a cold voice, " _Can you send me a clip of 09-MA's voice? I'll let Keiji listen. We can't be sure they're the ones who caught them_."

"Alright." Tadashi tries to find the right words. "Maybe it'd be better if you guys don't do your mission tomorrow. For your safety's sake."

Kuroo laughs, as weird-sounding as always, though it sounds more strained. " _If these translations of yours are real, then it'll be our only sure chance to stop them. We'll bring the whole team, even the trainees. Those bad guys won't stand a chance. We might not have another opportunity like this again_."

Tadashi gulps. "Okay," he says.

" _Is there anything else you wanna say? I'm gonna start talking to the others 'bout our mission_."

"Ah-" Tadashi hesitates. "No. That's it. Good luck."

" _Sure_." Kuroo laughs, a little more real this time. " _And tell Tsukki to chill for me. Kenma says he's been 'ignoring Shouyou's calls.' He and Kags really want to meet up soon_." 

"I'll tell him." Tadashi tries to chuckle. "Have fun with your briefing and stuff. Bye."

" _Bye-bye, Yams_." Kuroo ends the call.

He hears Suga munching on some chips and Kiyoko flipping through files. He stares at the clay at the edge of his desk. It's full of dents and prints from his fingers. He sighs. This isn't the kind of case he thought he'd be working on today. He pulls out the flash drive and places in his drawer beside his headphones. He stalls. 

Should he tell Kuroo about it?

He shakes his head and closes the drawer with more force than necessary. Kinnoshita gives him a look, but he returns to his computer like nothing happened. Tadashi's grateful for it. 

He moves back to his own PC and grips his mouse. He opens Google Maps.

He can check room 208 himself.

***

Satori gets his scissors ready. Tsutomu sits ramrod straight on his tall stool as he stares back at himself from the bathroom mirror. Satori thinks he looks scared. 

"You wanted a new look right? Well, my mom used to cut my hair all the time 'cuz it grew so fast! She's basically a professional hairdresser. She taught me everything she knows! You've got nothing to fear!" 

He turns to Satori. "I don't think you're gonna make it look weird. It's just that I've been growing my hair out for a while." Tsutomu frowns. Without his hair in a bun, it goes as far as two inches below his shoulders. How long is _a while_? "It feels like a waste to just cut it off. Should I just dye it?" 

"Nope!" Satori laughs because fuck that. "I'm gonna cut your hair like my mom used to and it's gonna look better than any dye job could."

"But-"

"Listen, little dude. If you dye your hair, it's gonna get all weird and damaged, just ask Eita." He points to Semi-Semi, who's sitting on the toilet seat with its lid up. He doesn't look up from his phone but replies with the bird. _Cute_ , right? "Ya can close your eyes if you're scared."

His shoulders tense but he does close his eyes (which is too stupidly cute for Satori's sanity). He makes the first snip, and Tsutomu flinches. He keeps his eyes closed. They make idle conversation, and the kid doesn't seem to mind that he can't see - or maybe he's just too scared to see himself lose his hair. (They probably shouldn't have put him in front of the mirror, but eh). The haircut lasts a couple minutes because of his semi-injured hand (thankfully it healed really fast 'cuz of his new buddy Kai. Satori should send him a fruit basket or something), but finally, after long moments of awkward fumbling and almost-fuckups, he finishes his art piece.

"You gave him a fucking bowlcut," Eita says astounded, finally looking up from his tiny metal rectangle of distracting lights and colors. 

"And that I did, Semi-Semi. Nice of you to notice." 

"You've ruined him."

Satori ignores Eita's disgusted face and waits for Tsutomu's reaction. "Well, your opinion doesn't matter. I only care about what Tsutomu wants to say about it."

They both turn to him.

"Ah," Tsutomu whispers after a bit of awkward silence. "I don't hate it."

And Eita fucking loses it.

Well.

"I'm-" he pants out after two straight minutes of laughter. "I'm pretty sure we can go to a real hairdresser if you want."

Tsutomu is blushing like crazy, but he gulps and says, "I think it looks great- Honest! I've always wanted bangs like this." He pauses. "But, I'm pretty sure my teammates would make fun of me if they saw it."

"You don't have to lie about it. Your teammates are definitely right. I'd make fun of you too if we were close," Eita says.

Satori makes an exaggerated huff. "They don't know what true art is."

"They kinda do though." Tsutomu chuckles, smiling wistfully. "Our team's setter is an intern for a tattoo parlor and he's really good at visual arts and stuff. He made me an oil painting for our secret santa exchange."

Eita does a one-eighty on his mood and performs a ritual lip-licking (which only ever happens when he's hyper-focused or when he's about to talk real shit with someone. Satori thinks it's the latter). "They're probably worried about you. Don't you wanna talk to them? I'm not in a position to tell you what to do, and you're probably dealing with some crappy trauma, but don't you plan on telling them you're okay?"

Tsutomu does his own one-eighty and gives him a serious look. "I don't think it's safe. I'm pretty sure they've got access to my contacts and accounts."

"But-" Eita frowns. "-you're safe here. Even if they do know where you are, they can't hurt you with us around."

"I don't think that's the problem. If they knew about this place, then they'd hurt _you_."

"Wakatoshi could break their bones. Reon could stab them. Hayato has fucking claws, dude. They'd have to be pretty strong." Satori laughs.

"I used to underestimate them too, but-"

_Tsutomu is panicking beside him. "I'm sorry," he chants. "It's my fault," he sobs. No matter how hard Satori presses on the injury or how loud Tsutomu cries, Eita won't stop bleeding. It was such a small wound, hardly a centimeter wide, but there was so much blood. Eita dripped like a fountain. Bullet wounds always seemed to do that._

_"An ambulance is coming!" Reon shouts. His own arm is in a sling, but he still makes an effort to help Taichi limp out the door. He'd been assisting him walk from the second floor of the abandoned building all the way outside. Satori wishes he had that kind of strength._

_"How's Wakatoshi?" He asks. 'What happened to him? What hurt him?' he wants to scream._

_"He's breathing, but they're not sure he'll make it. I'm not sure most of us will," Taichi replies, panting and out of air._

_"It was a trap. We shouldn't have come at all. Someone set us up." Hayato huffs from his crouch by the door. He sounds weak, so unlike how he's meant to be._

_"Shirabu? How's Shirabu?" Eita croaks suddenly, wound still gushing. "He overused his Gift. He got too emotional."_

_No one answers him and Eita cries alongside Tsutomu, hand tightly clasped on Satori's sleeve. Satori guesses what it means._

_"We have to stay strong." Reon stares at the clouds and gulps. "Stray Cats and Yellow Camellias are doing much worse. If we can't stay strong, no one will." Tsutomu sobs louder but Eita quiets down. The streets are bare and the only things Satori can hear are panicked whispers from the few who are still conscious._

_Tsutomu pants and shakes. His breathing goes erratic. "I-I think I kno-know who's behind thi-this."_

_"Who?" Satori asks._

_"The-they're-" He sobs."-the ones wh-who've been tr-trying to k-kill me."_

_"Are you sure?" Reon asks, apprehensive. "Is there anything you know that could help us?"_

_"I-" he hiccups, "-I'm sorry."_

_Eita's cries go even weaker and his grip on his arm loosens. His eyes lose focus and-_

"Tendou? What happened? What did you see? Are you okay? You're paler than usual." Eita places a hand on his forehead. Satori tries to swat it away playfully. It's a little harsher than he wants it to be.

They're out of the bathroom and sitting on Tsutomu's bed. The kid looks really worried. It's probably Eita's fault. "You're in mom mode again, Semi-Semi. Calm your tities. I'm fi-"

_Twenty-seven. That's how many steps he takes before he reaches the door. He could faintly hear the sound of television from one of the other rooms. Careless conversations, laughter, the blow of a hair dryer. He could hear more than he should've. The walls must've been thin._

_The putrid smell of rotting food greets him, but he ignores it in favor of opening the door. The smell only gets worse as he comes inside, but alleyways and slums were a big part of Satori's past. Fruits gone bad and moldy dairy were child's play._

_He carefully puts the food into a trash bag. After cleaning up the small apartment, he goes and eyes the various pictures adorning the walls. A highschool graduation photo. Selfies with friends. Family portraits. Only one face seemed familiar to Satori in the moment. Tsutomu's features were far too distinguishable. How much of his life had he pushed to the side when he ran away? For a second, Satori truly felt Eita's worry._

_He crouches in front of the closet and takes out as many clothes as he can. Haphazardly, he puts them away in an empty duffel bag he finds under the bed. He needs it; Tsutomu's wardrobe was painfully limited back in the dorm._

_He tries to fit as many personal belongings as he can find in the bag, but a sudden knock on the door stops him. Satori tenses, but he gets up and silently walks towards the sound. He makes a move to turn the knob-_

Tsutomu passes a cold glass of water and Satori gulps it down, probably too fast. He hurries out the door to refill it after Eita's instruction. He doesn't come back after a moment too long, and he hears Taichi's voice from the kitchen. Taichi was the biggest gossip on the team; Satori's probably not gonna get that refill any time soon. Eita grabs his hand.

"Satori. Are you okay?" He asks, tone hardly questioning.

He smiles. "Yes. Yes, I'm okay," Satori replies. 

Eita sees right through him.

***

"Chika!" Ryuu shouts from his spot near the bar, drawing the attention from the other patrons. "Bad day at work?"

Chikara takes the seat in front of him. "Definitely."

"Well, your night's gonna get a little better 'cuz I already ordered you a beer," Ryuu passes the glass. Chikara takes it eagerly and gulps down as much as he can. Ryuu laughs.

"I really need my Gift back," he says. He pushes his beer aside and leans his head on his arm.

Ryuu raises a brow, far too condescending to be from an idiot like him. "I thought you still had your gift?"

Chikara looks up at him and glares. "I do. I just want to use it like I used to. This is too much. Maybe God just wants me to suffer for not giving into my directing dreams." He turns and stares at the sign for the bathroom. "Have I wasted my life all this time?"

"Dude." Ryuu laughs. Chikara turns back to him. "You can't be drunk already. We just started." 

Chikara goes back to glaring. "I'm not drunk." He frowns. "I think I'm just having an existential crisis." 

"I don't know what that means but you definitely need to chill." Ryuu drinks his beer. Chikara eagerly follows. "What case are you even on?"

He sighs. "Someone had footage of a really sketchy looking deal made at the back of their shop. I'm supposed to figure out what it was about and who did it, but I'm coming out empty."

"You're probably just stressed out of your mind. When was the last time you had a real break?" Ryuu takes another sip. Chikara drinks down the last of his beer. "You obviously know this already, but your gift is shit if you don't calm down."

"It's not just me though. Have you read the news? No electric Gift is working properly. Even Kinnoshita can't find any follow up footage."

With a quick "Wait a bit," Ryuu gets up and orders them another round of drinks and some nachos. As soon as he's back with the beer, Chikara downs most of the glass down. "Woah, dude. You're gonna be hammered after this. Slow down or something." 

"Come on. We were taking shot after shot last week. This is tame." Chikara would really like some of those nachos right now. Can't they make it any faster?

"Well, yeah. But, then I had to bring your drunk ass home and it wasn't as fun anymore." Ryuu rolls his eyes. "How about Suga? Is he doing okay?"

"He's fine. He's been taking the boring cases recently. I mean, he took on this missing person case a while back, but he dropped it and stuff. He did the same with this fraud case. Some government scandal with foxes or something. I don't know." 

"Sounds wild." Chikara laughs. Damn. That pun was shit. Does it even count as a pun? Chikara may never know. "How about our dear Lady Kiyoko?"

Chikara finishes his second glass and the nachos finally arrive. It could quite possibly be the best thing he's eaten all week (he'll ignore the fact that he comes here every night and almost always orders this, but his brain isn't going to argue with him tonight). "Still the same as ever. She brought her girlfriend over a couple days back, though. She's nice and cute." 

"As she should be. Kiyoko deserves no less."

"How's Tora and Noya? You guys talked recently?" He asks in-between munches.

"You'd know if you checked the group chat. Unmute it and ask them yourself. Maybe we can go out together tomorrow." Ryuu sips his beer gingerly. He's acting like it's not Friday night. It's not like they don't have work tomorro- Shit. Maybe he's got to do an appointment tomorrow morning. Fuck. Is that why he's acting like a alcohol virgin? 

"I'm getting another beer." 

Chikara gets up without waiting for Ryuu's reply. That's probably a little weird and maybe Ryuu noticed. Well, he can be rude sometimes too. He's learned a thing or two from his friends. He isn't a total goody two shoes like they tell him. Okay. So maybe he drank a little back home after he got off from work. Ryuu doesn't know. He doesn't have to. It's fucking fine.

He walks to the bar and calls up one of the bartenders (he decides the shortest one looks the least threatening, so he's the one he calls over). "Two beers please. Table 2." 

"Yes, sir," he replies, already starting on the order. Damn that hair is orange. He's like a mandarin. Or a tangerine, 'cause those are smaller. Yeah. He's a tangerine.

Mr. Tangerine (or Hinata as his nametag says), looks at him when he passes the beer and tilts his head a little to the side. "You're the new regular, right? The one who works at the Flightless Crows' Private Detective Agency?" 

Chikara didn't realize he already counts as a regular for coming in for a month, and he doesn't really know why he should reply at all - he just kinda wants his beer already - but he nods. "Uh. Yeah."

"Do you know anyone named Yamaguchi Tadashi?" 

"Yup," he says after a few awkward large-toddler noises.

The scarier bartender joins in and says, "Can you tell him we want to talk about meeting up? He and Tsukishima aren't replying to our calls." 

"No, dude. Tsukki's the only one ignoring us. Stop making Yams sound like a bad guy." Hinata hits the other bartender's arm. Chikara is trying to read his name tag but he keeps moving around. Or Chikara's a little too not-sober. Hinata looks back at him. "He's a really nice person. I swear. Don't listen to what Kageyama said. I mean, you should tell him we wanna meet up, but Yamaguchi wouldn't hurt a fly. Not even a frog. He'd never ignore our calls."

Chikara blinks. There's probably something wrong with what he said but who cares. "I know. Sure."

"That's good 'cuz-" 

The waiter who gave them their nachos lightly smacks Hinata and Kageyama (apparently) on the head. "We told you not to be weird to the costumers." He turns to Chikara. "Sorry about them. Here's your drink." 

Chikara nods thanks and gives them a thumbs up. Was that a right gesture? Eh. He'll let Hungover Chikara deal with the shame tomorrow or something. "Cool."

He makes his way back to Ryuu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Hopefully I can post the next chapter before December"_  
>  \- me, before I realized everything would go to shit
> 
> I'm sorry. I've kinda given up on existing. School went wild and then it ended and I don't know my grades because of the virus and it's aufuehfiwjciwcjs. I moved n stuff so everything's a mess too. Sorry this came so late. I had the time to write but I couldn't even shit out motivation if I wanted too lol.
> 
> Also, to clarify, the setting isn't actually Japan nor is it any specific place/country on earth. It's an area that's got seasons n stuff, but it doesn't necessarily snow, just mild winters n stuff. Gay marriage is legal here too cuz I can't imagine homosexuality being weird in a world where people you pass on the street have wings or scales.
> 
> Hope you stick around for the next chapter. It's gonna start getting a little wild from here on. Thank you for reading. Really means a lot.
> 
> Ps. If you'd like, you can talk to me on my tumblr. It's called uninteresting-table. I'll also give news on the updates there.


End file.
